


The Wicked Carnival

by Jynxii



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-26 02:37:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/645612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jynxii/pseuds/Jynxii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a little, quiet, gray place somewhere on the planet Earth, and it's a little, quiet, gray place of uncertainty and confusion.  By means little-known, twelve freakish trolls are born and raised in the confines of such a gloomy setting, and it becomes all they know. Horrifying terrors await the passersby and anyone who stops in is in for a real show.  It is a place known as the Caliginous Carnival, and it's where wicked miracles happen, brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A/N: all copyrights go to Hussie and blahblahblha you know the drill. However, there is some moderate shipping involved in this story, and I’m going to try to keep it unbiased. I apologize if you dislike a particular one but I will not be able to appeal to everyone’s taste. Therefore I will not focus solely on such and will pretty much keep things canon. Just a forewarning, but please do enjoy the story.  
Also, if you find any given detail that is misconstrued or incorrect, please let me know so I can correct it. Thanks.  
_____________

At the entrance of The Caliginous Carnival, there is a worn, faded sign too desolate to really advertise what would normally be thought of as a bright, cheery place. Originally, the sign was nothing more than a wooden stake in the ground with weathered, tattered and torn paper glued to a spare piece of lumber. The sign was so battered that the words announcing welcome to the desolate place was scratched and faded; the bright red had turned a dark maroon and the letters were hardly visible—well, enough to read, anyways. It wouldn’t matter anyways, for the original sign maker had left a major part of the word “carnival” off of the entire sign, as if he ran out of space and gave up on fixing it, so that it read “Welcome to The Caliginous Carn”.  
The carnival was a dreary place, true to its name, despite the festivities that each member making up the ‘staff’ put forth with much effort. Despite every neon colored light, pastel balloon, new, bright fabric and other various, colorful decorations that were hung up and about, everything just seemed to be under a bleak shade of gray, like a permanent overcast sky about to pour with rain. The personalities of the carnival workers were cheery enough—those who enjoyed their jobs, anyways—but of course deeper secrets lie under pretty things.  
There were plenty of things to see and do, like rides from a rickety roller coaster (which only the bravest diehards went on—for the thing was so old, creaky and about to fall in that hardly anyone dared to go near it) to dizzy things that made people puke like hell, booths of all sizes selling things from foods to drinks to souvenirs, to game stalls costing knock-off prices to play one round of and win a crappy toy, to somewhat decent shops selling items of actual quality like clothing or blown glass, to the giant Ferris wheel.  
The main attraction was the large sideshow, despite the carnival including an entire circus, with twelve individuals each to their own oddities or talents. Of course, to any outsider (humans especially), these amazing feats were real and utterly amazing, but in reality most of them were rip-offs. Take the hypnotist Vriska Serket for example: her “ability” was to hypnotize a volunteer troll or human from the audience and make them do her bidding. In reality, she didn’t even use hypnotism; she had a special ability of manipulation through her vision-eightfold. ‘The Amazing Mindfang!’ she was called, and would put on a good show on a day she felt in jovial-enough moods. The sideshow had plenty of space on its own, getting a whole section and more than one stage so that three shows could go on at once in rotations of four twice a day, totally twenty-four shows in twelve hours.  
The carnival opened around ten in the morning and didn’t end until midnight, but the sideshows were from eleven to eleven, giving the twelve stars little time to do much else than work. They were paid minimum wage, but a tad higher than the vendor and booth runners; a secret kept under the table by their employee and the top-notch boss there at the Caliginous Carnival. He was an overall good man—eclectic like everyone else there—but deadly hectic if things went wrong. He was good with keeping his head on straight and expected everyone to abide by the rules. Otherwise, consequences were given out and then “sweetened” at the end with a handful of licorice Scotties—as if he were trying to end his harsh consequences with a nice reminder of who he was.  
There was a reason that the twelve stars were only trolls: people apparently didn’t want to pay to see trolls in the big top—no, the good show was reserved for humans! Of course, this was ludicrous, for sometimes when actors ran short, some of the sideshow trolls were called in to take up the humans’ place, and there were even a few trolls already in the circus acts that somehow went unnoticed by the audience. Everyone knew that the sideshow was really what brought in the money, however.  
Let’s take a look at our sideshow freaks now, ticking them off in no particular order. Perhaps the oddest one (besides from “special talents”), being of airy behavior and metaphorical nonsense, was the one icon most associated with any circus or carnival or any type. Being the tallest of his eleven friends, it was only suitable to dress the most ridiculously in accordance with his ‘act’. Reading this, you’re probably assuming that he’s a clown—and you’d be right. The clown is a classic symbol of comedy, jokes and mockery, which is exactly opposite of what Gamzee Makara was. As a clown, he found it his job to make others smile, but he went about it in a different direction. For one, giving a goofy smirk under his perfectly-suited clown makeup was enough to make little kids giggle themselves into pissing their pants. He could do clown tricks, like juggling while riding a unicycle and purposefully falling for some laughs, and he could do others too, like shtick acts with his closest friend and co-worker, or being set on fire (with prosthetic flames) and chasing older audiences away to assert to their worst fears. Sometimes just for shits and giggles to himself and his friends, he’d purposefully seek out those he knew had a dreadful fear of clowns and follow them closely around, his feet honking those ridiculous horn-honks with every step he took in the oversized, red, plastic shoes with yellow shoestrings. He was hard to miss, with an oversized, puffy, purple pantsuit that didn’t exactly cling to his curves, his large mass of curly, wild hair and obnoxious mannerisms when acting. He was known simply as the Miracle.  
Next in line was perhaps the grumpiest, most depressed and saddest troll, all because he didn’t much see his purpose in the freak show, other than for people (trolls especially) to point and jeer and sometimes throw rotten food scraps at him. Honestly, he didn’t have a special talent or ability (except where he excelled in education, especially subjects like biology, chemistry and physics), he just had what The Boss called a “mutation”. Where normal trolls had pointed, sharp horns of all shapes and sizes, Karkat Vantas- AKA the Living Mutant- had . . . nubs. They were small, much like his petite yet compact frame, and rounded. It was a sensitive issue to him that he’d rather not talk about, yet The Boss wasn’t kind on letting any of his moneymakers leave, even when one had brains to become a neurosurgeon. Even as he dressed as nice as he could in somewhat ratty formal wear, he sat on his stool and stared off into space and ignored taunts from everyone, including humans. It was often hard for him to deal with, and only through the comfort of his friends did he find release from the five out of seven days that he had to sit there and be jeered at, grimacing, trying not to cry and simply enduring until his thirty-minute shift was up. Even Vriska, who had been known to be brutish, mean and well . . . a bitch, refrained from making comments on his horns, all for the sake that they were all wasting away, stuck at a terrible carnival and smiling over their pain and suffering.  
But back on a brighter topic, the next troll was known as the Blind Prophet. It was debatable whether Terezi Pyrope could actually predict the future, but no one dared ask. When the long days were over and all twelve trolls sat together, eating dinner, the thing they did not want to talk about was work, and so they didn’t. It wouldn’t matter anyways, most of the sideshows were fake anyways, just schemes to pull in more and more money from stupid people willing to pay to see amazing things that weren’t really that amazing. Anyways, Terezi was actually blind and did dress in the ridiculous gypsy getup that one normally associated with fortune tellers, just for added effect. She had her own tent setup, with silks, tulles and sheer draped around just about every object for a nice ‘gypsy’ feel, complete with candles, skulls, crystals hanging on clear string from the tent’s ceiling and a good, old fashioned crystal ball. She was more impassive towards the life at the carnival. The way she saw it, there was nothing to change about it, not yet, and listening to Gamzee’s rants about messiahs and promises of one day being liberated by angels of double-death only made her grimace and remind herself what true justice was.  
Equius Zahhak was the widely-renowned Strong Man, having seemingly no weight limit to what he could lift and delicately balance. Despite his hunkering size and overwhelming, bulging muscles, he was kindhearted, gentle and moderate beyond expectation. He censored himself and even scolded his moirail on occasion for use of foul language. Being in a carnival, the trolls didn’t have much time to truly balance out their quadrants, but most managed—like him and Nepeta Leijion. He often was paired with Nepeta (The Cat Lady), especially when she would put on ‘animal-taming’ acts. In reality his spunky, charming and energetic moirail had two pet roarbeasts that would sit, dance or cry out in mighty roars on her command, and their star trick was for the roarbeasts to sit on their haunches as Equius lifted them up, one on each arm. They would balance as Nepeta would spring up from behind, somersaulting in the air and landing firmly on Equius’s shoulders, balancing precariously as the audience would go wild with cheers and claps. When Nepeta worked on her own she would sit much like how Karkat would, only she gave more effort to entertain the “guests”, as she called them. She’d show off her tail and answer questions, “Yes, it’s furry real,” pounce at string or cat toys that kids would bring along, let an occasional person tug—gently—on her bright blue tail and sing cat-pun songs in her bright, chirpy voice. Equius by himself would lift anything requested by the audience, having resulted several times in moving the entire audience to the parking lot just to witness him lift a whole car or two—and once three, with the third balanced on his knee (this was later banned by The Boss for obvious reasons).  
Tavros Nitram, the Nitrous Breather, had a way with fire—real and prosthetic. Using various illusions, he could seem as if he was really spurting hurls of flame from his mouth, or really shooting fireballs from his palms (his shows were scheduled towards night for better viewing pleasure). He always did his shows blindfolded, claiming he didn’t even need to see to perform such wonders. Actually, he was terribly xenophobic, and so this was the only solution since quitting wasn’t an option. He had a terrible lack in confidence and was easily intimidated, but whenever he put on that blindfold and got up onto that stage he felt as if he could just fly, and fly he did . . . in his mind. His specialty was to turn the flames he sputtered out into different, bright colors, making patterns or shades that made the audience ooh and ahh. Sometimes, when he was really lucky, he’d get to replace one of the acrobats for a show or two under the big top, letting him live in his dream for maybe fifteen minutes before landing back on solid, boring ground again.  
Aradia Megido and Sollux Captor were one of the few with actual talents, being what humans called “psychic”. Sometimes they even substituted as the circus’s acrobats, aiding their glides through the air by levitating themselves. They performed together, as the Telepathy Twins, which was a misleading name, but hell, who cares about correctness at a shitty carnival? They did things that were expected from psychics, like levitating various objects and each other, bending spoons only by “staring at it”, teleporting around in short bursts and by performing illusions to wow the audience. They, in person, were more on the quiet side except with each other despite a strained ex-matespritship. Sollux was a bit more of a pessimist while Aradia seemed pretty 0kay with everything. They were some of the poster-boys, so to speak, of the carnival, and one that The Boss advertised wholeheartedly. After all, they were real and not phony—not that the audiences could tell any difference.  
Then there was the Charming Conjurer, as Eridan Amphora had dubbed himself, and his tricks relied on the use of a “scientifically-powered wand”, which was faker than Latula Pyrope’s ego, but he was actually able to perform optical illusions. Like Terezi, he received his own tent, space to perform card tricks or general magic tricks. Instead of rabbits, he’d pull electric eels out from a top hat that he consistently wore and watch, laughing, as they slithered into the squealing audience, only to “poof!” into birds and fly off into the bleak sky. He was talented, nonetheless, but unable to live up to his given stage name. The only charm he could pull off was to senile old ladies that found everything amusing and cute, and so he often spent time with Karkat in a huddled group complaining. This made him somewhat insufferable to the other co-workers, but he was really a good guy underneath his angst and frustrations.  
Eridan’s ex-moirail, the lovely Feferi Peixes, was charming where he was not, bubbly (pun intended) and all-around a troll people wanted to be near. Her stage name was The Fish Lady, and she took special pride in her ability to breathe underwater as if it were some gift bestowed upon her instead of what she was naturally born with. This gave great enthusiasm to her audiences, and it overall was almost like watching a show at Sea World. With two small orcas, she performed various tricks and swimming routines, showing off her masterful skill as “the Empress of the Ocean”, as she was also known as. She was also a pretty face to look at, often being named by younger children as “a real live mermaid, woah!” even with her lack of a fish tail. She, like Nepeta, was constantly cheerful, happy and optimistic, bringing about the brighter side of things to the dreariness of everything surrounding them.  
Lastly, but not least, was the Chainsaw Wonder, a chainsaw-toting woman who showed a masterful display of ease, accuracy and deadliness with her favorite weapon. Kanaya Maryam was a shocker to first-time viewers of her show and a fan-favorite. Dressed as primly and properly as she could be for a carnival worker on minimum wage, people would think she had come up onto the stage prepared to sing an opera for them. Although she was certainly dressed for one, the objects about her stage always led to a different story. Different posts and items were placed delicately, such as apples or sandbag dummies, all prepared to be annihilated by her sharpshooter skills with her compact chainsaw. Firstly, to keep the tension going, she’d apply a nice shade of jade lipstick from her favorite lipstick tube, and then, she’d release the chainsaw from within the tube and perform her act. Off stage she was no longer fierce but kind and motherly, lending a shoulder or listening ear to all who needed one. She was often looked to for advice and tried to focus more on improving the carnival situation than finding a way out of it.  
There, now that we have characters out of the way, the story can continue on for the point of exploiting the twisted, dreaded and rather awful clause that the story proposes. Let us begin on any ordinary night of the lovely carnival, just after the sideshows have been done for the day and our twelve stars are beginning to settle down and unwind. The twelve have six trailers huddled together to form what they know as home, two per trailer. Each trailer was decorated to suit the inhabitants, inside and outside, trying to give a bright, cheerful flair that would make them temporarily forget . . . . Often, for the general warmth and comfort of being around a fire, they lit a small bonfire in the center of the semi-circle of trailers, sometimes to cook with and mainly to eat and talk around. The center consisted of a cut in half oil barrel that had rusted into worthlessness ages ago, filled with pieces of wood chopped by Equius and Kanaya and surrounded by blackened dirt and ashes.  
Each had his own folding chair to sit in that were only removed from their circle around the fire pit when it rained or snowed. They sat in the same spot every night, sometimes switching seats or moving around, and all ate at the same time. In their huddled world of uncertainly and tyranny, it was the closest thing they could call to a family. A dysfunctional, frustrating family. It was painful for the trolls to see their smiling audiences clasps each others’ hands at the end of the day and go home as a family; it was something those people had, something they didn’t know they had the mercy of. Sometimes the trolls would look at screaming, pouting children and scowl; they didn’t know how lucky they were to have parents and siblings- someone to take care of them, love them. So, to put all their worries aside, the twelve would gather around as if they were all born to the same parents; brothers and sisters. No, they didn’t always get along, but it was all they had going for them.  
What little possessions they had were trivial, and it wasn’t like they could just go out and buy things to entertain them. They were too weary to be entertained—that was their job. Ever since they could remember, being little tots stumbling around, they had lived, breathed and slept the carnival life. Always had they imagined the outside life, but never had they ever gotten there. Outsiders, they didn’t understand. They saw entertainers up on that stage, smiling, laughing and putting on a good show, but when they went home at night they didn’t understand that the entertainers’ smiles faded away and was replaced by bitter remorse. They didn’t know oppression- the oppression put on by The Boss. It wasn’t a life they chose. It was a terrible fate they endured.  
It was a silent, quiet night for them, for Karkat had ended up under the wrath of their boss after letting him hear a complaint. God, Karkat complained too much, but he was careful with his words. He was considerate to others’ feelings, and it was only by a misfortunate stroke of luck that Boss Scratch had been walking by right at the moment of his usual complaint of being “abused by the circus’s negative appeal to make fun of the weak and disfigured”. Unfortunately, most of the trolls had been there to see it happen, which set up a sour mood for that night.  
Karkat only glumly stared down into his worn bowl, poking at a chunk of rootstarch with his spoon. He kept a blank face besides his scowl, and not even Feferi dared tried to cheer him with a pun or smile. Not that puns made him happy anyways. The only thing he hated was that everyone just had to stare. They couldn’t just act like everything was ok and continue about their business. His head had stopped throbbing from the smack he had received from Doc Scratch, but he could feel the pressure and tender soreness of a bruise forming. Beside him, it was obvious that Terezi was stiffened with discomfort. He didn’t bother to address the issue.  
Fed up with being stared at from the corner of their eyes, Karkat stood, without even finishing his meal. He turned halfheartedly to Terezi and held his bowl out towards her. Even though he knew she was blind, he knew she had hearing and smelling beyond the other trolls’ already exceptional senses. When she shook her head in refusal, Karkat sighed and turned to his moirail, who was seated next to her.  
Like Terezi, Gamzee shook his head.  
“C’mon, Gamz, you’re always hungry. So here, just have my fucking share.” Karkat moved towards the clown and dumped the rest of his bowl into Gamzee’s before he could say another word, broth messily spilling down the sides.  
Without another word or look to anyone, Karkat turned sharply on his heel and went to the trailer he shared with the magician and snapped the door shut behind him. It left a deafening silence over everyone else; no one liked it when another was in a bad mood—not even Karkat, who was always grumpy.  
The Miracle nudged Terezi with his elbow gently- sloshing the overfilled bowl out onto his hands. It was still warm.  
“I know, I know.” She mumbled. She had always been expected to be the one to calm Karkat down. Despite the fact that Gamzee was his moirail, Karkat seemed to only listen to Terezi when he was in such a terrible mood; otherwise Gamz would only get on his nerves.  
The others went back to eating, trying to make small, menial talk to distract from the blanket of silence Karkat had placed over everything. Terezi took her time, grimacing at how sloppily Gamzee had taken up eating just to get the bowl empty enough to where it wouldn’t spill every time he moved. Sometimes he really grossed her out.  
She frowned to herself, only half-heartedly listening to Feferi’s bubbly take on some silly costume she saw that day. Her stomach was in knots and she had to force what was left of her meal down. It really bothered her when Karkat acted this way; hell, they’d all had worse. She sighed inwardly and hoped no one was looking at her—for she wasn’t bothering to hide her disgruntlement. Terezi began to gnaw on her lip and then stopped herself. She had to get out of such a painful habit. Forcing herself to stand, she placed her bowl in her chair and moved towards the direction of Karkat’s trailer. She reached up and untied the ridiculous scarf she had to put around her head every day, the lifted weight feeling much better.  
She patted her hair down a bit before opening the door, and stepped delicately inside. She hesitated, taking in the woodsy aroma she had always associated with her matesprit, and remembered what the place looked like. She hadn’t always been blind, and it was by the hand of her old Scourge Sister, Vriska, that she had become that way. Vriska had always been like that; if things didn’t go her way, she made people pay. She had split up Sollux and Aradia, she had dwindled Tavros’s insecurity to a pitiful amount (not to mention breaking both his legs) and she had caused a lot of other troubles amongst the twelve.  
Inside the trailer shared between Eridan and Karkat was a neat and orderly place. There was a main theme of reds, purples and vermillion, and Terezi could just smell all those wonderful colors together in a fantastic mixture of cinnamon, nutmeg and plums. It nearly made her mouth water, but then wasn’t the time to go around licking things to get the full sense of those brilliant colors.  
“Karkat?” she called, already assuming where he’d be in the tiny place.  
“Go away.” His muffled voice came from the direction of his bed, which was swathed in faded, apple red. Over his bed hung a small mirror he and Eridan shared, angled so that it could face both of them at the same time. A small window with ugly brown curtains was beside the round mirror, drawn shut.  
Grimacing to herself, Terezi shuffled over the soft, coral-colored carpet that had probably once been a bright orange, and sat on the edge of his bed. “That was rude.”  
She didn’t see it, but he scowled, his eyes still shut tight. He was curled beneath the thick comforter despite the summery heat outside, a flat, gray pillow beneath his head. “Yeah well they can fuck off.”  
Here we go again, she thought to herself, staring at the spot where she knew Eridan’s own bed of grapey purples to be. Sometimes his attitude got old, but she had to deal with it. She reached out a hand until she felt where he rose from beneath the covers and let it rest on his waist. The fabric was rough beneath her fingers, and almost itchy. “They care about you. They weren’t even aiming to . . .” she was momentarily at a loss for words. She had to be careful or else he would purposefully take things the wrong way. “Insult you in any way.”  
“Terezi, go away.”  
“You don’t really want me to.”  
That shut him up. She smiled to herself in small victory. They both knew she was right, but she wasn’t going to rub it in his face. She sighed, aloud this time, and leaned back so that she was resting against his huddled form. Terezi would wait patiently. He’d crack in a few minutes at the most. She had begun slowly counting, when only a minute and thirteen seconds passed before he spoke.  
“It’s just . . .” he paused. “Really hard.”  
“That’s life.”  
“I know, but—“ here he suddenly freed himself from under the comforter, causing Terezi to sit up and turn to face him. He sat up, still fully dressed. “—why can’t we do anything about it? I hate Scratch! I’m not the only one!”  
“Shut up, you idiot!” Terezi hissed, slapping a hand over his oral receptor. “This is why you get in trouble. You can’t keep your flap shut for two seconds.”  
He grunted and she let go. “Well I’m going to do something about it!”  
“Like what?” she gave him a sarcastic look. Great, now she’d have to keep him from doing anything stupid.  
But she didn’t receive an answer right away, confirming her assumption that he really had no idea what he was even talking about.  
“I . . . I don’t know.” He mumbled in defeat. Terezi knew that wouldn’t be the last she heard of it. “But I’ll do something. We have to overthrow him. For Cod’s sake, Gamzee would be better than him!”  
She didn’t respond. She had a terrible gut feeling that he was about to get in over his head—and drag them all with him. Sure, no one wanted to be under The Boss’s rule, but there really wasn’t all that much they could do about it. He wasn’t a troll, and he wasn’t human. In a way he was ¬all powerful, all seeing. How were they even supposed to kill something like Doc Scratch? She knew Karkat was upset; she knew he didn’t want to be teased or taunted anymore. He had suffered that enough as a youngling. No one wanted to keep living their forced life. 

But once Karkat had his mind set on something, it was hard to dissuade him. And if he wanted to kill (or rather, attempt to kill), then God damn it, he would try.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, which was surprisingly a bit brighter than the previous day, Gamzee Makara made his usual rounds around the entire place. It was just before the opening hour of the sideshow, so he donned his silly getup and made his way about. Normally, he’d bring Tavros or Karkat along with him, but that morning he felt the need to do some scoping on his own. He had patiently waited for Terezi to exit Karkat’s trailer the previous night and forced her into telling him what was going on. She had scurried away before he really got the chance to respond, but it kept him up that night, pondering. What if he really could take over the carnival? Gamzee wasn’t much of one to fight authority, and so the newly posed question stumped him. Yes, he felt Boss Scratch was treating them terribly for the sake of money, but he wasn’t a bad person . . . guy . . . thing.  
The smell of freshly-baked pretzels, fried foods, cotton candy and popcorn met his nose and he had to fight the urge to go to one of the vendors and just buy out their entire stock. He had a sweet tooth for funnel cakes and candied apples—not as badly as Karkat, though—but he knew he shouldn’t. Besides, he had his trusty Faygo Redpop for the morning. The clown smiled to himself and pulled out a small bottle of his favorite soda from the overly large pocket in the overly large pants big enough to hide a cat.  
He paused and stared in the direction of the oddly dim Earth sun, hidden behind a thin layer of clouds, like usual. He sipped at the Faygo, the fizziness still cold against his tongue. In the distance the carousel’s music tinkled and chimed in its hypnotic way. The way the sun hid behind the clouds made it look like Doc Scratch’s head was always looking down upon them. He was all-seeing, after all, and the blank, white sun replicated the fear exactly. Gamzee didn’t exactly fear The Boss, but there wasn’t much he feared anyways. Except cold sopor. Cod, he hated cold sopor.  
Reminding himself of his plan, he pocketed the Faygo again and continued on towards the petting zoo. He always liked to give the old Billy goat a nice pat on the head and a fistful of hay. After making his usual round there, he left again, noting the sun hadn’t moved one inch. He stopped again for another swig of the sugary soda and grimaced at the bald orb in the sky. In the secret library Kanaya and Terezi had put together and hidden away within her tent, he had read about this planet called Alternia, where apparently the troll race originated from. How they ended up on Earth, they had yet to find out, and no one dared ask. Alternia looked pretty great compared to the cold, damp rock they were rooted on.  
Gamzee felt a tug on his pants and looked down. A young troll stared up at him, with shaggy black hair, big, wide eyes and twisted horns resembling ones similar to Aradia’s. The kid looked male, but it was hard to tell at such a young age. He stared up at the clown with almost a sad pout, and didn’t speak until Gamzee leaned down so that they were eye to eye.  
“Mr. Clown, I’m lost.” His small voice spoke.  
“Lost?” Gamzee looked at his wrist, only to remember that he didn’t have a watch. He took a guess at the time. “It’s only ten-thirty kid. How’d you get lost?”  
The small troll only shrugged, ashen shoulders lifting. His arms were wrapped around a small stuffed reptilibeast, one Gamzee recognized as a prize for the darts game.  
The clown thought for a moment, unsure of how to deal with lost kids. He stood up to his full height, and held out his hand. “Okay kid, let’s go find your parents.”  
The troll smiled and took his hand gratefully, trusting. “My name’s Abbine. You’re The Miracle, aren’t you?”  
They began walking towards where Gamzee knew he’d find Kanaya this early in the morning. She was better with youngsters. Gamzee scratched at his chin, inwardly cheering with elation. He loved that name, and he loved hearing it. “Sure am, Abbine.” It felt good to be known.  
“I see you everywhere!” the young troll talked like they were good friends. The kid continued to babble on as Gamzee led him in to the sideshow area, and behind the gates designated as their living space. The kid almost hopped along as he spoke, bouncing the book bag on his tiny back up and down. The clown wondered what a troll his age had to carry around.  
He pulled Abbine along until he reached Kanaya’s trailer. She and her roommate Aradia were hanging up freshly-washed laundry to dry on the lines that ran between their trailer and the one Equius and Nepeta shared. They came to a stop and before he could control him, Abbine slipped away from Gamzee’s hand and ran up towards the other two.  
“Woah, woah!” he exclaimed happily. “You’re one of the Telepathy Twins! And you’re the chainsaw lady!”  
Clearly startled by the unannounced and unexpected visitor, Kanaya paused from stretching out a blanket over two of the clotheslines and looked down upon the small troll. Her thin eyebrows arched, and she glanced to Gamzee for explanation. The clown only shrugged. What was he supposed to say? The kid did come up to him after all, and wasn’t acting very scared at being so lost.  
Aradia pinned up a shirt and wiped her hands off on her ragged skirt. She bent down so that her knees nearly touched the ground and she could be level with Abbine. She smiled sweetly—she had a way with giving the sweetest, reassuring smiles— and he smiled in return, nearly decapitating the stuffed reptilibeast he was squeezing so hard.  
“What’s your name, sweetie?” she asked quietly. Kanaya eyed the troll over Aradia’s shoulder carefully. She had always had her suspicions on Gamzee, even though he clearly wasn’t as menacing as people made clowns out to be.  
“I’m Abbine!” he announced proudly. “I’m lost.”  
Aradia didn’t let her expression falter. “Well, that certainly is a nice name. Why don’t we—“  
“Hey!” a voice boomed, rudely cutting Aradia off. “Come on, Gamz, we’re going to be late— who’s this?”  
It was Karkat, seemingly undaunted from the previous night, donned in his usual clothing meant to look somewhat formal and carrying Gamzee’s deuce clubs. He sidled up next to the clown and handed him the colorful clubs, staring down at the bright-eyed troll who was staring at all of them agape. Immediately he flushed, a crimson burning through his ashen skin, because he knew what that stare meant. He had to endure it nearly every day. Except, this stare included recognition—this little troll knew him, but of course, Karkat was blowing it far out of proportion.  
He shuffled uncomfortably, dragging his eyes away from the kid—what was he doing there anyways? He wanted to ask, but he knew that was rude. He had a long day ahead of him, and he didn’t feel like starting any arguments.  
Kanaya gently cleared her throat. “We were just about to find his parents. I think we should take him to Scr—“  
“Are you crazy?!” he cut in, immediately earning a scowl from her. “We can’t take the kid to—“  
“Well, he does know everything.” Gamzee tried to placate his moirail by wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “He could tell us where his parents are.”  
“Excellent idea.” Aradia smiled to Abbine and stood back up, taking his outstretched hand. He seemed to take an immediate liking to her.  
Kanaya turned to Aradia and the two shared a disgruntled look. Deep down, they entirely agreed with Karkat about the whole ordeal—but what else were they to do? Gamzee just dragged him in, probably expecting her to take care of it anyways. For a moment, Kanaya felt a spark of hate, but looking down at Abbine snuffed it. It was almost flattering that she was trusted with such issues. She let Aradia answer all of the young troll’s persistent questions, trying to think to herself. It was risky presenting a lost child to Doc Scratch, for his reaction was unpredictable.  
“Okay, look. We have to figure something out.” Karkat rubbed his forehead, obviously (and ironically) pressed to make it on time for the first show. “We can’t just take the kid to The Boss. But we can’t just leave him here, either!” his voice was rising in frustration, making the troll cling to Kanaya’s leg and stare wide-eyed up at him. “We’ve got shit to do—“  
Equius, who had been nearby fixing the small, run-down graphics box stimulator (or television, as humans called it) they all shared, looked up at the commotion. It had also caught the attention of Nepeta, who had been fidgeting with one of the various mechanical tinkers Equius had been known to make for various odd-jobs. He had a surprising talent with mechanics and machinery despite his bulking size and tremendous strength. He glanced to Nepeta, who looked about ready to bounce the entire way to the small group, and nodded slightly, standing straight and wiping his hands on a rag.  
The two made their way over, immediately asking for explanations—which of course, were hardly needed when Abbine was very forward about introducing himself. He knew all of the sideshow stars; it was his favorite part of the carnival. He only knew their stage names though, and was known to mix up their titles a bit. The two were baffled as to the child’s presence and why Karkat was ranting so angrily over it. It wasn’t every day that the sideshow freaks were approached- in fact, people tended to avoid them. It had its positives and negatives, but still, a child approaching them was different.  
As soon as the suggestion for taking Abbine to Scratch came up, immediate reactions arose from Equius and Nep. Equius, having a strong respect and trust for authority, instantly agreed, while Nepeta spit out her tongue in dismay and was almost upset that someone even suggested the idea. The further the split started to range between the trolls, the more Karkat ground his teeth in frustration. They needed to get something done about this kid, and fast. He was already late.  
“Okay, okay, look,” Kanaya cut in, inwardly sighing to herself at the squabble arising. “Let’s hold a meeting tonight, after all the shows are done. We’ll take turns watching over him—“  
“Babysitting?!” Karkat interrupted, but she ignored him and continued.  
“—and then we’ll decide what to do.”  
“How are we going to keep track over a kid?” he asked. “Kids have energy. Energy means they run. Running means they get lost and out of our sight.”  
This time it was Gamzee to bend down to Abbine’s height. He placed a sturdy hand on his shoulder, offering a kind smile that was trustworthy. “Can you behave, Abbine? We need you to stay put until we can figure our little problem out, alright, little bro?”  
Abbine nodded eagerly, smiling with the anticipation that he got to spend a whole day with his favorite stars! But there was still so much he wanted to do; even if he had already been over the carnival grounds and back ten times. It was his favorite place, a place his parents had often taken him to. He wouldn’t know why, but he was about to get to know the place even better.  
The clown amiably returned the kid’s smile and clapped him lightly on the shoulder.  
“I’ll watch him first,” Aradia offered. “I’ll explain to the others what’s going on.”  
“Alright, so it’s settled,” Kanaya decided with no true jury to agree. Well, someone had to take charge, and it wasn’t going to be Karkat. “Go on, Aradia. I’ll finish up the laundry.” With that she turned as if in dismissal and went back to her original chore, leaving the other four baffled and somewhat snubbed.  
Aradia had taken Abbine’s hand and was leading him away towards the direction of Terezi’s fortunetelling tent, chattering happily away with the boy. Karkat was the first to move after that, grumbling and taking a hold of Gamzee’s arm. They sauntered away towards the sideshow stages, Gamzee getting an earful for apparently causing them to be late—not that it mattered. Morning shows always had lesser audiences. Equius crossed his arms, watching the two get smaller and smaller until they were around the corner of the tall fence they lived behind and out of sight. He seemed to be thinking to himself his own solution to the matter, which wasn’t as likely. Nepeta knew better. Equius was the type of person to submit to those higher than him, despite his level on the blood caste (which also didn’t matter in The Caliginous Carnival), and to boss those below him around.  
Nepeta broke his chain of though after she grabbed his hand and turned him back towards the small repair bench he had set up. She wasn’t sure why he kept fixing the old thing; no one really watched TV—especially since they were all human-made programs. Nothing for trolls. Sollux had once told them there were troll-made channels and programs, but it was only available on the graphics box stimulators they could never dream of affording. But it was nice to dream, nonetheless. Equius had been secretly working on some sort of satellite device that would pick up the same channels as those fancy packages you had to buy for those fancy graphics box stimulators, just so they could find something more entertaining than cheesy soap operas that didn’t make sense to them. Why on Earth did those humans only look after one other person? There were so many opportunities that those humans had to make with a kismesis or auspistice, but no, they’d always go after the same quadrant. Poor humans. Karkat had explained to them all about quadrants and how to handle them from those books he had collected in the secret library they had hidden away, and deemed himself an expert.  
He seemed to take more to the quadrants than the others, for they didn’t really have the means for true, flourishing relationships like any troll would in the open, free world. He was also the only one who vividly took to those ridiculous romcom movies that he managed to find as well. He had watched them a thousand times over until the VCR broke, and Equius had been bribed by Sollux to pretend like it couldn’t be fixed. That was too bad though; there were other movies the trolls hadn’t had a chance to watch.  
Nepeta huffed and hoisted herself nimbly up onto a rather tall boulder that Equius had placed there once for weightlifting practice, and swung her legs back and forth. She enjoyed watching her moirail work on his various projects when there was nothing else to do. Her show was next in line, but she didn’t feel much like practicing with her roarbeasts. They knew what they were supposed to do, anyways.  
“Equius,” she called down in her singsong voice. “Can we buy a real graphics box stimulator?”  
“Well,” came his careful answer. He had faced worse questions. “That’s not really within my range of confrontation-neutralizing ability, Nepeta. It’d be up to the others.”  
She gave a small pout, resting her chin in her hands. “What do you think of Abbine?”  
He only shrugged, focusing on two pieces of the television as he screwed them securely into place. She only flitted from subject to subject when she was bored, so simple-minded answers would easily satisfy her curiosity. “I have a terrible feeling that the child will end up in the guidance and care of the twelve of us. Exclusively, it is possible that he isn’t actually lost, per say—“  
“What do you mean?” Nepeta cut in, but was unable to receive an answer, for a sudden opening and slamming of a trailer door caught both their attentions.  
Sollux, looking rather pissed, stomped down the stairs of the trailer he shared with Feferi and over towards the two. His right fist was clamped around something and looked scorched, as if he had taken a handful of ashes and rubbed his hands together. When he reached Equius’s little workstation he held out his hand with a frown.  
“What happened to you?” Nep asked as he dropped what looked like a microchip into the Strong Man’s hand.  
“I wath electrocuted, okay?” he spoke without trying to soothe his lisp. “But it’h fixed now.”  
“Thank you, Captor.” Equius responded without much thought.  
“Yeah, yeah. Have you guyth theen Aradia?” he looked around, noticing Kanaya working by herself and Vriska whittling something with a pocketknife she had filched from some man years ago.  
“She went to take Abbine to Terezi.”  
“Who?”  
“He’s a kid you’ll meet tonight.” Nepeta added. “We’re having issues on deciding what to do with him.”  
“What, ith he lotht or thomthing?”  
“Sort of.”  
“Thath ridiculouth. We can’t look after a kid.”  
Nepeta only shrugged. Sollux thought to himself for a moment, and then took off in the same direction that Aradia had earlier. The Cat Lady watched him glumly, already feeling excitement die down. Sometimes she really hated waiting when she knew something exciting was about to happen. She hopped down off the boulder, turning to the direction of where she kept her loyal roarbeasts. Waving to Equius, she danced off in their direction to warm them up for their shows. It was going to be a very long day.

That night, the thirteen trolls sat around the fire pit- unlit- already buzzing with excitement (some with disgruntlement). They, for the most part, had finished eating and were waiting for Kanaya to bring the topic of what to do with Abbine up. The kid was seated between herself and Gamzee (he had really taken a liking to the clown) and was munching happily on a piece of dehydrated moobeast. He had never had such a delicacy and was savoring the spicy, yet sweet, piece of meat that required chewing and chewing and chewing. He was looking expectantly around. He had somewhat officially met all the trolls, although a few were more or less indifferent to his presence.  
Only when he finished his piece of dehydrated moobeast did Kanaya stand up and politely wait for everyone’s attention and quiet settlement. When the buzz died down she gently cleared her throat, clasping her hands in front of her delicately. She had always been polite and ladylike. She began by introducing Abbine yet again, and by re-insinuating the issue before them. Abbine listened inattentively, seemingly uncaring at the fact they had yet to find his parents. Perhaps, in his childish mind, he was just too happy living his dream of meeting the sideshow freaks that he just simply didn’t notice. He still had a tight grip around the reptilibeast he had tugged along all day, being passed from troll to troll to watch for thirty minutes, but he had released his book bag to lie beside him on the ground. Gamzee had offered his seat to the kid and took up a spot on the ground, sitting cross-legged.  
“Now, there are twelve of us, so should we come to a split decision, we’ll need a tiebreaker.” Kanaya continued on, finally getting on with the point. She had always been known to ramble on before getting to her point of the matter.  
“My dice!” Vriska immediately offered, grinning with the peevish amusement of getting to use her methods of decision making.  
“We can use just one,” Kanaya responded. “But we’ll get to that if it’s a tie, alright?”  
Karkat stood up, immediately throwing in his two cents. “I, for one, think it’s a terrible idea. The guy is no one to mess with. We don’t need to present this kid to him; Cod knows what would happen.”  
A few others nodded, and the Chainsaw Wonder asked them to raise their hands. That totaled five people. Then she asked for those opposing Karkat’s opinion to do the same. Six people raised their hands. That left only one—for Kanaya had voted herself in taking the child to Scratch. Surprisingly, it was Vriska who had been left undecided.  
Everyone looked to her to make her decision, but the Amazing Mindfang only sat slumped in her chair, fingering one of her eight-sided die between her forefinger and thumb, contemplating. Very often she had looked for excuses to use her dice, to gamble out the chances and take risks. The others expected this was her reasoning, but for once, she was utterly stumped. So what if they took Abbine to Scratch? But then again, something in her felt an empathetic start for the little troll. What if he ended up like they did? No parents, no actual family, no real place to call home? It wouldn’t matter to her—it’d just be another oral receptor to feed, another show to train. But look at him; he was just so damn cute with his big ol’ eyes and floppy hair that covered most of his face.  
Vriska sat straighter and pressed her lips together. She prepared to roll her die, to let it hit the dust below her feet and bounce and spin. But instead, she tucked it away within her palm, and glanced towards Kanaya, who was watching her with an almost heated expression. She could either break the deal or cause a tie. Perhaps she should have some fun . . . but this was a serious matter and she didn’t feel like enduring another week of being ignored by her co-workers. They were all she had, after all. When Kanaya’s eyebrow arched, Vriska spoke.  
“Take him to Scratch.”  
Sighs of relief and groans swept the circle of trolls- except for Abbine, who still didn’t know what was going on or who Doc Scratch was. Vriska slumped back into her previous posture, staring at the blackened fire pit and making no eye contact. She didn’t want to face anyone’s judgment—not that she cared. Besides, if things went wrong, she could always take a chance at manipulating Scratch with her vision-eightfold. He wasn’t very impressionable, but like with Sollux, a slim chance was all she needed.  
“Alright then, it’s settled.” Kanaya calmed the trolls again. “Tomorrow morning we’ll take him to The Boss.”  
“That’s fine and all, wicked sister,” Gamzee spoke. “But who’s going to take him?”  
She knew this question was coming, and she had already prepared an answer. She looked around the circle in an authoritative manner. “Anyone volunteer?” No one did; they stared off into space, shook their heads or just blandly stared back at her. She nodded, knowing this would happen. She turned back to the clown. “We’ll take him.”  
Gamzee didn’t protest, but he didn’t look too enthralled, even underneath his makeup.  
Seeing as he wasn’t going to disagree, Kanaya took it as a sign of agreement, against her better judgment, and nodded to herself. She sat back down, concluding the ‘meeting’. The trolls erupted with chatter, all contemplating over Abbine and the possibilities of what would happen with him. A few even retired for the night, no longer wishing to discuss the matter, but Gamzee couldn’t focus on much. He hadn’t expected to be pulled into the matter so abruptly, and he wasn’t too keen on keeping a kid around. They were once kids; he remembered that perfectly well. They were always into trouble—breaking things, climbing on un-climbable things, hurting each other with destructive means, losing things, ruining things, touching forbidden things like the priceless antique vases in Scratch’s office . . . they had been more than a handful and yet, not a single one knew how to take care of a kid.  
He hoped Kanaya had some books stashed away on the issue. Otherwise they’d be running around like cluckbeasts with their thinkpans cut out. There was still that nagging fear that something was wrong, that this was much more than they were bargaining for. There was just something about this kid that wasn’t right—something about him that was different from just any regular troll. Gamzee never favored unfavorable circumstances, and already he wanted to hold the kid away and get rid of him. He was just full of bad vibes; bad omens. If only he could tell what.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, The Miracle and The Chainsaw Wonder made their way torpidly towards The Boss’s office. Abbine walked between them, hand in hand, excited with the new adventure unfolding. Hardly any trolls had spoken another word about the visit they were making, but occasionally gave a mournful stare and frown at any of the three. Abbine hadn’t noticed of course, but the other two trolls took it in stride, trying not to let their confidence falter.  
As they made their way across the already busy grounds, avoiding small clusters of excited children and bustling vendors, the tension between them grew. Doc Scratch lived exclusively in his own home somewhere bordering the grounds, but they had never gotten to see the place (it was only a rumor, anyways). His office, however, was a trailer that looked nothing like one would expect on the inside. It was set towards the back of the entire carnival, where most of the maintenance and power supply was located, and was definitely the quieter part of the whole place.  
It was definitely kept up- the place around his office was immaculate, from the grass to the polished sheen of the white walls. The three hesitated before the small set of concrete stairs leading up to the door. Kanaya stepped up first, leading the other two with her. She gave a last small glance at Gamzee and reached up to delicately knock on the door three times. She and the clown felt extremely nervous, their stomachs knotting with uncertainty. It was almost like they were tossing themselves to the fangfish and it was definitely too late to back out.  
Within seconds, the door was opened, and The Boss appeared before them. They couldn’t tell what his expression was, they never could, because he had none. The most outstanding feature of this man-being-thing was the fact that he had absolutely no face. His head was a smooth, plain, white sphere, like the human’s Jack-In-The-Box spokesperson, only without the funny little hat, pointy nose and lines for eyes and a mouth. He was dressed immaculately, as he always was, in a crisp, spotless, entirely white suit, lime green shirt underneath and darker green bowtie. He was eclectic, nonetheless, but presented himself with a gentlemanly air.  
“There you are. I’ve been expecting you.” his voice wasn’t like any regular voice. It was as if it was laced and pulsed with electronic waves, but powerful and masculine altogether. It even sounded as if he spoke through a fan.  
He stepped aside in the spacious room and let them in, closing the door promptly behind them. They had gotten used to his manner of speech. Of course he was expecting them; he knew everything, saw everything and practically was everything. He led them towards the set of two couches—antique in style and of that same green upholstery. Everything was green in his office—or white. The walls, the decorations (also antique in style), the furniture—Cod damn it, even the floor. It was strange, erratic and unexpected.  
Towards their right sat his desk, an immaculate piece of such a dark green it was almost black, ornate and hand-carved. His tall-back chair sat behind it, looking plush and fit for a mafia godfather. Various possessions were placed in an organized manner about the desk, from fountain pens, to his typewriter-computer to a Newton’s cradle.  
Between the couches they sat uncomfortably upon was a coffee table of the same ornate, dark green wood. On it sat a silver tray that was premade with a small bowl of mints, sugar cubes, tea cups and a china teapot. On the opposite end of the table sat his signature crystal bowl filled with licorice Scotties.  
“Help yourselves,” he gestured towards the tray and bowl. “I know we have matters to discuss about this young boy. You fancy chamomile, yes, Ms. Maryam?” Without waiting for confirmation, he picked up the teapot and delicately poured the light yellow tea into a small, fragile cup that was rimmed with gold. “One lump or two? But of course, you will pass on the sugar.”  
He handed her the cup gently, and she politely accepted it. He already knew what was going to happen, but they didn’t. He already knew Gamzee would pass on the tea, but he offered anyways to be polite. He was a very good host, nonetheless. He knew Kanaya would drink two cups before refusing and that Abbine would eat one handful of licorice before deciding he didn’t like them. He knew the reason Gamzee was so nervous and he knew how they would respond to their friends when he sent them back that day.  
Doc Scratch poured his own cup and leaned back, crossing one leg over the other.  
Kanaya stabled her shaky hands and took another feeble sip. Coming face to face with The Boss was nerve-wracking, and it became harder with each moment not to break down and run off. There was just this affirmative air about the man-being-thing that was godlike, as if they were in the presence of a holy, divine entity. But Kanaya trusted (secretly) Gamzee’s judgment on those sorts of things. And if he didn’t think Doc Scratch was any sort of divine being, then she wouldn’t either.  
“So then, let us begin.” The faceless being started. He sounded amiable enough. “You’ve come to me in question over this young troll, correct?”  
“Yes sir.” Kanaya answered in the best way she knew how. She figured it best to respond politely since he was keeping etiquette correct. “He says he is lost, and we do not know how to find his parents.”  
“Well, you were certainly right to bring him here,” the trolls noticed how he had yet to sip from his tea—but that wasn’t surprising, seeing as he had no oral receptor. “But there is absolutely no reason to worry.”  
He noticed Abbine’s stare towards the bowl of candy and reached towards it. He slid it lightly across the table so it was within the young troll’s reach. The boy looked up in confusion at the faceless man for a second and then took one of the little black dogs. He stared at it, and only popped it into his mouth after Scratch repeated his previous statement of helping themselves. He watched with hidden amusement as the young boy’s oral receptor twisted in disgust as he chewed, being nervously watched by Kanaya from the corner of her eye. She was worried he’d offend The Boss, and he knew that.  
But Scratch only placed his cup on a saucer and chuckled. He folded his hands together before himself, looking over the three before him.  
“What do you mean, sir?” Kanaya finally asked, watching with apprehension as Abbine reached for another of those gross candies.  
“He isn’t lost, much to your confusion.” Scratch easily answered, his shoulders slightly lifting before settling again.  
“He claims he is.”  
“That’s because he’s too young to understand.”  
Understand what? She wanted to ask, but she knew he’d answer her unasked question eventually. Sometimes he liked to dance around the point just to make his point. He was a very interesting man. And why wasn’t Gamzee helping her? She had volunteered him because she knew he didn’t have trepidation of the being before him like the others did. Instead he was simply sitting there, his hands tightly clasped over his knees and suppressing a frown. For once he was speechless, and anxious. There must’ve been something else, Kanaya concluded. Something was taking up all his attention—and it wasn’t The Boss.  
“To put it best and simply, he has been unfortunately and utterly unacceptably abandoned by his own parents. I have taken it upon my grace and sanctity to take him in myself, except he will not be in the care of me. He’s most affectively taken a good liking to you twelve, and so he will stay.”  
As he spoke both of the trolls did a double take, suddenly registering what The Boss was actually implying. Well, their worst assumption had been confirmed—Karkat was going to blow a gasket on this one. Their boss really expected them to take care of a kid?! What the hell did they know about parenting? They didn’t! Just like that, he was already throwing the innocent thing into dismal decline—a rapid, downward spiral that the poor youth would soon find was not all glorious colors and fame. Before his sentence was even finished, Kanaya had begun protesting, but she was silenced with a single, purely white hand held up by Scratch.  
“There is no other option, Maryam. I do not run an orphanage, but there is nowhere else that will take him in. I have already foreseen such circumstances. He is too old to be taken in anywhere else and finding his parents will only lead to dismay and disappointment. He will grow up just fine as another sideshow star. That’s his ambition anyways.”  
But he’s young, Kanaya wanted to retort. He doesn’t understand what life is like yet. Which was true, the young troll was still too young and naïve. But there was no way to present such a trifle to The Boss; he was already set on making the kid yet another sideshow freak. But how? He had no asserted talent or special skill. People didn’t want to pay to just see a kid sit there and do nothing. He could probably talk their heads off, but that would’ve been it.  
“Train him to do something, maybe even help one of you with your own shows.” Scratch continued, as if he were oblivious to Kanaya’s racing mind and Gamzee’s silent panic. “Don’t worry now, you’ll do just fine.”  
Abbine at that point had munched on a handful of the licorice Scotties and was starting to feel unsettlement in his stomach. He hadn’t been listening to the other three talk; he never paid attention to adult conversations anyways. His naturally black lips were stained darker with the sticky residue of the candies, and his fingertips were even stickier. He sucked at his fingers, trying to get off that annoying feeling and glanced up at Kanaya, his shaggy hair obstructing his view.  
Gamzee had taken to clutching at his knees hard, his knuckles and joints turning a pale gray. Kanaya could only assume what was going on in his head. It wasn’t positive, that much she could tell from his blank face. The others were not going to be pleased.  
“Have some more tea to soothe your nerves, dear,” Scratch held up the teapot and poured more tea into her cup. Already she didn’t want any more, but it would help with her anxiety.  
She was already regretting the whole idea, figuring it would’ve been best if they had never come to Doc Scratch, just like the others had warned. Of course, they wouldn’t have kept him in secret, or kept him at all, but then they were stuck with him. Kanaya refused to eat crow, especially since it’d mean Karkat would gloat in her face about being right, so she’d just have to keep her dignity and take it with the best manner possible. She swallowed the rest of the tea in one, unladylike manner and placed the cup firmly down onto its saucer on the table. She stared into the empty cup, folding her hands in her lap. She had brought this upon herself, and she’d probably be the only one in charge of him.  
“Now, I think you three should be getting along,” Doc Scratch stood, and the others followed shortly, Gamzee faster than the others. “It’s nearly time for Gamzee’s first show of the day. Oh, and do check his bookbag, why don’t you?”  
With that he led them to the door and saw them off, musing to himself at their nervousness. The three retreated back to their section of the carnival, Doc watching as Abbine slipped his hand into Gamzee’s. Already he was anticipating what would happen between the young troll and the others, and he mused on all sorts of possibilities.  
Upon their return to their section, the others immediately took up what happened judging by their expressions. They didn’t know what to do, so Kanaya merely disappeared in her trailer for a moment before returning with her sewing kit. She sat down in her chair and started up on the work she had previously started with mending one of Eridan’s shirts. Gamzee just stood there, shifting on his feet and putting his hand into his pocket. His fingers wrapped around the comforting bottle of Faygo but he didn’t pull it out. Abbine stood there for a few moments before slipping out of Gamzee’s grip and running over to the chair he had left his belongings in. He picked up his reptilibeast and hugged it to his chest, sitting promptly in the chair and waiting for something to happen.  
Karkat was the first to speak, approaching them with keyed up energy. “Well? What happened?”  
Neither troll answered, so the others gathered closer for the verdict.  
“Oh Jegus please tell me it’s not what I think.” Karkat waited with a doomed expression, searching Gamzee’s face for any positive sign. He growled and placed his hands against his temples. “You’re kidding! You’re fucking kidding me!”  
Gamzee just shrugged, and Kanaya kept her eyes on her handiwork.  
“W-well, that’s a turn of ev-vents.” Eridan spoke, wavering his W’s and V’s like usual. “But w-we all could sea it comin’.”  
“It can’t be that bad,” Feferi chipped. “But come on, what’d he say?”  
The trolls seemed to be on edge, awaiting the answer. But Kanaya kept to her work, leaving it up to Gamzee to tell everyone. Eventually, he did, and he told them exactly what Scratch had told him. Their reactions were mixed, and no one looked overly enthralled by the fact they were now in charge of a young troll.  
When Gamzee was finished telling what he had to tell, he rocked on the balls of his feet, his hands shoved into his pockets. He tried to give his best apathetic look, but it was hard considering what he had feared was then flowering into a giant warning bell going off in his head. He’d have to speak to someone later about it . . . but who wouldn’t share his doubt? It was more than doubt . . . .  
They were silent for several minutes, all glancing around at each other and occasionally at Abbine. The kid only sat contented in his seat, looking somewhat drowsy even though it wasn’t even noon yet. His grip from around his reptilibeast had lessened and was about to fall from his arms.  
“I guess we’ll have to find space for him.” Kanaya spoke, somewhat sternly, still staring down where her neat stitches went in and out of the fabric of Eridan’s shirt. I’ll let him have my own bed if need be.”  
Gamzee scratched the back of his head, contemplating. It was sort of his fault that they were in this predicament, for he had brought the kid to them in the first place. He should’ve just left him with the security personnel and let them handle it. Maybe Tavros wouldn’t mind sharing with the kid—or him, since giving the kid his bed seemed like a better idea. Hell, he’d sleep on the floor. “Uh . . . no, no—I’ll do it.” Tavros glanced towards his roommate, but his face was impassive. “Since . . .” he shrugged. “It’s kinda my fault and all.”  
Gamzee couldn’t see Kanaya’s face from where he stood, but her pressed lips relaxed. “You shouldn’t have to do that Gamz—“  
“Wait,” Karakt cut in, walking around to look at Kanaya. “Are you . . . admitting you were wrong?” his face shone full of hope. Terezi came up to him and stamped his foot—nearly missing, but with damn good aim for a blind girl. “Ow!”  
The Chainsaw Wonder growled silently, her hands starting to shake furiously. Keep calm, she reminded herself. Don’t let it get the better of you.  
“I insist.” Gamzee continued, ignoring Karkat’s interruption. He stared at the kid, slightly frowning.  
Karkat gave him a curious look, but the clown only kept ignoring him. Karkat, in their whole life of knowing each other, had never seen his best friend so confused. He had a darning feeling there was something more to it than he was letting on. This was the same thought Kanaya had, but of course asking him would only lead to him shrugging and claiming he was fine. Perhaps if he could catch the clown alone he’d explain, but that was a slim chance. Gamzee had an ability to simply slip away without anyone noticing. He was weird that way . . . sometimes he’d slink away like he was a part of the shadows, only to appear when you least expected it.  
“Uh . . . well,” Tavros spoke up, trying to gain Gamzee’s attention. “I guess we should get things . . . uh, ready . . . then.”  
The clown nodded absentmindedly. “I’ll get it.” He mumbled, but no one heard him, they only saw his lips move. He started up staring down at the ground, the seemingly gray grass giving neither comfort nor an answer.  
Sollux cleared his throat. “Ok, I think that’h enough of a pity party. I’ve got thingth to do, tho if you’ll excuthe me.” He pretended to straighten his shirt and headed off in the direction of his trailer. Somehow, in a rude manner, he was always able to break up silences and get things moving again—even though it was unintentional. Following his manner, Equius, Nepeta, Vriska and Aradia went back to their own business. Kanaya had stopped stitching, but no one noticed, except Feferi, who reached over to pat her hand empathetically.  
Karakt stared the clown down until he dragged his eyes up to meet his. Instead of his expected grimace and complaint, he shrugged instead, brushing past Gamzee in an indicating manner. Gamz followed behind, his mind already too far away to really be in the mood for performing. Terezi had taken a seat next to Abbine as Eridan had come up to closely inspect him. Tavros only slumped away, unsure of what to even do at that point.  
Feferi sighed.  
Eridan poked at Abbine’s hair. “W-we’ll hav-ve to get him cleaned up.”  
“And find him some more clothes.” Feferi added, laying her chin onto her palms. Kanaya finally looked up, taking a glance over the kid’s shabby clothing.  
“His book bag.” She remembered.  
“W-what?”  
“Scratch told us to check his book bag.” She didn’t stand because Eridan had already picked it up and kneeled before it.  
“Maybe his parents left him with essentials,” Terezi suggested.  
Eridan unzipped the black bag and stuck his hand into the first compartment. He squinted a bit, and then drew out what looked to be wrinkled, and clumsily folded, shirts. Next came a pair of ripped cargo shorts and two pairs of socks. Three orangefruits were below that, and Eridan carefully placed them down on the ground next to the clothes, Terezi perking up at the citrus scents. A bottle of water was taken out next, and Ed stopped at the last item. He stared down into the book bag for the longest time, stumped by the last feature within the bag.  
“Whale?” Feferi edged him on.  
Ed reached in and pulled out a long-limbed doll of sorts—or so it looked at first glance. It was a stuffed puppet that had a hat turned backwards on its head. It had large, creepy eyes that just stared over a wide smile with a gold tooth. Its long limbs were thin and floppy. On its little blue shirt read the name CAL in large, white letters.  
Eridan held it away in disgust. “W-what a terrible toy!”  
“It’s . . . kinda . . . cute?” Feferi titled her head in shared confusion. It was in fact, a terribly ugly thing, and creeped her out beyond measure. Kanaya didn’t like it either and Terezi didn’t dare lick it to figure out what exactly it looked like. It just smelt . . . strange. Like a mixture of scents that were somehow familiar yet vague.  
“Oh glub! Is not!” he stuffed it back into the book bag, along with Abbine’s other possessions.  
“Careful!” Kanaya warned. “Is that all?”  
Ed nodded after a quick check over the rest of the compartments. They held worthless things like chewed up pencils, scrap pieces of paper, rubber bands and snack wrappers. He zipped the bag back up and stood, staring down with pity at the sleeping troll.  
Kanaya sighed. Well, it was something. She could make him more clothes, no problem. She hoped Scratch would at least take the liberty of furbishing them with more supplies since he had put the troll in their care. She just didn’t know how to get it into the kid’s head that he had been abandoned. Eventually he’d wonder and ask and possibly throw a fit . . . she supposed she’d just have to deal with it when it came time to. She rubbed her forehead.


	4. Chapter 4

After the excitement of getting to stay with The Miracle and The Nitrous Breather died down, Abbine had settled in rather comfortably and had gotten used to the trolls’ busy schedules. Of course, everyone still had to take turns watching him and would have to until he could be trusted on his own. Only once or twice during the next week did he stop and stare off into the distance, wondering why he was still there and where his parents were. He hadn’t complained much, and it turned out that he had been raised with polite manners, remembering to say “Yessir” and “No ma’am”, “please” and “thank you”. He had even begun to take pride in being called another “sideshow freak”—as was heard by the regulars who noticed his presence suddenly among the trolls.   
Eridan and Kanaya had gotten his hair cut so that it wasn’t all in his face and had even managed to get a day off to go to the thrift store in the town their carnival bordered. They had taken him along to make sure the clothes would fit and used their own accounts to provide for the boy. When they had gotten back they found Equius towing in a small, single-unit trailer for him. Perhaps Scratch had taken pity on their cramped space and given them more breathing space (well, for Gamzee and Tavros anyways). Abbine had been beside himself with joy, hopping up and down with his reptilibeast clutched in his tiny fist and singing loudly to himself a song no one had heard of before.  
“It’s the carnival, my friends!” he chirped, out of tune. “Happy, happy carnival! See the dancing bears, see the dancing clown! Look at the fat lady, upside down!”  
It was an odd song, but catchy nonetheless. It must’ve been a childhood folk tune he learned. Gamzee particularly found the lyrics enticing; his love for the carnival was greater than the others by very much. He had even caught himself humming it on occasion, making his own little twists to the lyrics when he couldn’t particularly remember them.   
“It’s the carnival, my friends! Happy, happy carnival! Ride the wheel, ride the colorful pendulum! Ride the loopy-train of adrenaline!”  
Gamzee Makara stretched out, awakening from his usually colorful dream. He took a deep breath in, the smell of sweat and a mid-summer’s morning deep and penetrating. He rubbed his forehead—it was slightly moist despite the two fans he and Tav had going to keep them cool through the night. Early sunlight peaked through his gray curtains and he sat up, moving Tav’s hanging arm out of the way. They had turned their beds into bunks to make space for other things, which meant that Gamzee had to occasionally move either a leg or arm before he hit his head on them. He stood and tucked Tavros’s arm back to his side, smiling at his long-time friend and flushed crush.   
The troll was shirtless and had pushed the covers all the way down to the end of his bed, robotic legs sprawled out as he slept on his stomach. Gamzee turned, scratching at his stomach and shuffled over to the door. He wasn’t sure why he was already stepping out—in nothing but his boxers and tank top—but something about the quiet stillness of the air made him curious. He hesitated on the steps of the trailer, holding the door open. Damn, it was cooler outside than it was inside, eerily so.   
There was a chilly presence about the place, yet everything looked normal. Something is wrong. There was no music; no usual smells; no voices or laughter; nothing. Gamzee looked around to see that Terezi, Vriska, Aradia and Sollux had done likewise, all standing on the steps of their trailers and just gazing around—all underdressed. They looked at each other, confused for more than one reason and for all the same reasons. Gamzee’s gaze lingered over Terezi, those black feelings still lustfully floating around despite the fact they both tried to repress it. It wasn’t something they wanted Karkat to find out about; it had been kept secret for awhile. He only forced his gaze away when he noticed Vriska was giving him a look that meant she would blackmail him.   
She grinned and he scowled. Their attentions snapped to when Gamzee’s head jerked around, seemingly of its own accord. He took a step, aware of the others staring at him, hesitated, and then took another. There was just this . . . feeling of something over that fence. His bare feet touched grass, and he stopped. It was like an electric pulse running through the air; like an x-ray being passed over them. They felt it. But why hadn’t the others woken up too? Given it was about half an hour before they usually did anyways, the circumstance was still very odd.  
“Get dressed,” Terezi hissed, loudly enough for them all to hear even at the distance apart they stood from each other. “Wake the others. Now.”  
Whatever it was, they didn’t hesitate, and each went back inside to prepare as quickly as possible for what seemed almost dangerous. Gamzee nearly sprinted back inside, having learned not to take such warnings from Terezi lightly. He found the nearest pair of pants and tugged them on, nearly knocking over one of the fans and tripping on the cord. He went over to the bunk beds and shook Tavros’s shoulder, harder than he normally would have. Adrenaline was starting to pump through him, making him nervous.   
“Get up, Tavbro.”  
The troll didn’t stir, and Gamzee growled, looking around for a clean shirt. He shrugged on his own and threw Tavros’s onto his waking body.   
“Tav, get up!”  
The urgency (and almost anger) in Gamzee’s voice immediately set the troll on edge, forcing him awake and aware. He rolled onto his side to see Gamzee hurriedly pulling on his shoes (without socks) and took it as a note to do the same. “W-what’s . . . going on?” he jumped down from top bunk.  
Gamzee only shook his head, looking worried. Tav didn’t press him further and tried to hurry.   
The clown, hopping on one foot as he tried to get the other shoe on and rush out the door at the same, nearly tripped out of the door, only catching himself nimbly as he tumbled headfirst. He snapped out his arms and turned his fall into a front flip by pushing off the ground. He was just slim and nimble enough to do so. He found the previous four already prepared—messily like himself. Others were stirring or asking what the fuck they were doing.   
He jogged over to Terezi, who had a concentrated look on her face. He could hear Karkat grumbling behind a whiny Eridan, a confused Fef and excited Nepeta. Jegus, they could’ve been on fire and would still move so torpidly. No one took the liberty to waken Abbine; they didn’t want him awake for whatever was about to happen.   
It took several more minutes before everyone was finally standing around the fire pit, groggy and looking to Terezi for an explanation (“And a damn good reason for waking us up this coddamn early!” according to Karkat). They nearly had to yell over each other until Gamzee barked for them all to shutup—perhaps one of the most aggressive things they had ever heard out his mouth. That only added to the silent alarm.  
“Look, there’s something going on—“ Terezi started.  
“Well obviously,” Karkat grumbled.  
Terezi continued, as if she hadn’t heard him. “—and it’s giving us a bad vibe.” She gestured towards Gamzee, Aradia, Sollux and Vriska.   
“It’s the carnival, my friends!” those words suddenly sparked in Gamzee’s mind, for some unexplainable reason. “Watch the lights go round and round and round and round; we’ll spin round and round and round and round!”  
“We need to go see what it is.”  
“But w-what if it’s somethin’ that you’re not supposed to find out?” Eridan asked.  
“No . . .” Aradia spoke. She was staring distantly into the gray sky. “It isn’t like that . . . it’s more of something changing.”  
“Drathically.” Sollux added. He shook his head to himself, and tried that word again, slowly. “Dra-sthic-ally. Drastically.”  
“What kind of change?” Nepeta chirped, her bright eyes alert and curious. Her tail waggled.  
Terezi only shook her head, deeply frowning. Instead, her head turned towards the open gates of the tall fence that encircled their area. She took a few steps forwards, letting the others fall in line behind her. Vriska jogged to reach her and wrapped her arm in her own, walking together like the sisters they were. Of course, that relationship had become strained once Vriska started fucking with everybody in horrid ways, but it was still there on a basic level.  
She snuck a glance over her shoulder at Gamzee- who had yet to even don his clown makeup for the day, and immaturely stuck out her tongue. He ignored her; there were more pressing things on his mind than her reminders about his kismesis. Karkat fell in beside him, Tavros on his other side.   
It was almost like a magnet they were following—well, the ones with higher mindsets anyways. The five felt they were being led in the same direction, but all eleven stayed behind Terezi’s lead. They stepped as a huddled group out of the gates and into the carnival grounds. They passed unopened, seemingly abandoned vendors, shut down rides, empty stalls and entirely empty grounds. There was no one. No customers; no stragglers; no workers; no mechanics. It was eerie; by then these things would’ve been up and running, preparing for the long day ahead.   
They each glanced anxiously around, the silence haunting them with dread. Terezi was leading them towards the big top. Each set of eyes laid upon the large canvas of yellow and red stripes, torn and patched in some places, stretching far up and high until it reached the tip: a matching flag flapping furiously in the wind. It made a slapping sound that only echoed in the emptiness.  
They expected Terezi to lead them inside; but no, she went around it, and they followed loyally. Within minutes most of the trolls had realized where they were headed: Doc Scratch’s office. They walked quickly and quietly, not daring to speak each other or look away from the spot ahead of them. Suddenly she stopped; the trailer was in view. She hesitated before Vriska gently pushed on her arm towards the left.  
Terezi nodded and they took an almost sharp left turn, back towards the big top. Instead of going back around, they headed towards the back, where the “backstage” of the circus was. They came to a stop again at the flap; voices could be heard, faintly. One of them sounded unmistakably like Doc Scratch. She moved it aside and stepped inside with Vriska still linked in her arm. The rest followed, still silent.   
The sight before them was something incomprehensible at first glance. As they all filed into the tent, they each came to a stop as their eyes each laid upon what was almost a mirror of themselves; twelve others. Twelve more trolls that looked almost exactly like them! A few mouths gaped, taking in the scene with confusion. Doc Scratch was talking animatedly with an entirely black figure. His skin had no color- just pure black- as were his clothes. Or rather, what looked like clothes. A fedora was pulled deep down over his head, hiding features that wouldn’t have been visible anyways. What they could see, was the pale outline of a scar over his right eye.  
The trolls gaped and stared, wondering just what those thirteen people were there for. One by one those mirrored trolls noticed the group standing at the entrance, dumbfounded. They seemed taken aback themselves at seeing trolls that were nearly exactly like them. They had even taken up whispering to themselves, some pointing.   
“What is it?” Terezi whispered. “I smell lots of colors. Lots of people.”  
Vriska slowly leaned over without taking her eyes of the girl that mirrored her. “They look just like us . . . .” she answered in an even quieter whisper.  
Doc Scratch and the dark entity seemed to finally take notice of them. Scratch held his hands out in a welcoming manner, gesturing for them to come forwards. No one moved, still too stupefied. The Boss chuckled and came towards them, instantly gaining their attention. He held out his arms again in a gesturing manner, and this time, they moved.   
They approached carefully and cautiously, already disliking their visitors.   
“Looks like they’ve come to introduce themselves, Mr. Noir,” Scratch led them back to where he had been previously standing. “A wonderful time to get acquainted.”  
The figure, Mr. Noir apparently, said nothing, nor moved. He merely continued on with his scowl and still stature. The other trolls were craning for looks at each other.   
The Boss turned to them, placing his hands behind his back. “Do feel free to get to know your fellow trolls, here. They are going to be your fellow show-mates and will be staying here with us. A great honor and pleasure,” he inclined his spherical head in Noir’s direction.   
And yet, no one moved. They just stared and stared and stared . . . .  
“Hm. Yes, well, if you’ll kindly follow me, Mr. Noir.” Scratch turned to head out of the tent and presumably towards his office. He let Mr. Noir ahead of him before following himself, eventually leaving twenty-four confused trolls alone.   
They continued with their staring game for a few more minutes when, finally, one troll stepped up—the one that was faintly similar to Feferi. They were only similar in the face and long length of hair. She stepped in front of her own group and looked once-over the other the twelve, a cocky display.   
Feferi stood somewhat behind her matesprit, discomforted by the aggressive attitude of her look-alike. Sollux took her hand.   
“Whale, whale.” She spoke with an arrogant manner of speech. “And here we thought we’d a shored these suckers up.”  
Her comment was taken aback by the twelve, and it was Vriska that was the first to respond. “What’s it to ya?”   
The Feferi-look-alike’s pierced eyebrow immediately shot up, a frown tugging at her lips. “That a threat?”  
“Hey, wait!” a voice—a gentle, calm voice—cut in, and its owner stepped in front of the cocky troll. She was the Vriska look-alike, only shorter and slightly plumper. “Our apologies,” she tried a small smile towards the twelve. “Please don’t mind Meenah. We don’t mean to intimidate you.”  
But her words didn’t quite match the group. The Aradia look-alike was disdainfully glaring apathetically at them all, taking long drags on a cigarette; the Eridan look-alike was eyeing over them in a creepy manner; the Equius look-alike was frowning deeply, sweating; Meenah was still glaring at Vriska, a silent snarl on her lips; and the Karkat look-alike was disregarding them with a look that made them feel small.  
She approached Terezi and Vriska carefully. She extended her hand, and when Vriska wouldn’t take it, Terezi did, having sensed her presence getting closer. “I’m Aranea. Apparently, our carnivals are merging.”  
“You guys are freaks too?” Eridan piped, already excited at the arrival of new people.   
Kanaya glanced warningly at him, by Aranea seemed unbothered by it. Instead, she smiled brightly. “If you’d like to get technical, yes.”  
A stir buzzed through the twelve, and slowly energy crept back into them.   
Each troll began to look over their mirrored self, being introduced and introducing themselves. They seemed to take to each other fast, some liking theirs more than the others and some ignoring them altogether, apathetic. Only Gamzee and his look-alike, Kurloz as Aranea introduced him, stood rooted to their spots. The whole time they hadn’t taken their eyes away from each other. They hadn’t blinked or changed expressions. A tension had built up between them, obvious to the others. It was a mix of aggressiveness, almost like a fight for territory between male alphas. It was almost scary how similar the two were. Even without his makeup, it could be told that Gamzee wore some like Kurloz did in a similar manner.   
“That’s Gamzee,” He heard Nepeta purr to her look-alike, Meulin, who was obviously well-associated with Kurloz. “He’s our clown! The best in town!” she giggled at her little rhyme, bringing Meulin into the same fit.  
Suddenly, without taking his eyes off Gamzee, Kurloz tugged on Meulin’s sleeve. When she turned, he began to sign rapidly with his hands, instantly giving away both their positions. The trolls then understood why he had stitches in his lips, and why Meulin talked very loudly. He was mute; she was deaf.   
Her happy, bubbly expression fell when she read his hands, and she glanced shyly at Gamzee. She quickly looked away and took Nepeta by the arm, heading towards another clump of trolls. The clown let his expression falter into a dissatisfied frown. To his silent shock, Kurloz mimicked him in the opposite gesture; he smiled.   
Feeling defensive, Gamzee turned immediately on his heel and stormed out of the tent, gaining a few stares. He clinched his fists, anger and rage building up within him. He didn’t understand where it was coming from, but he knew this Kurloz was going to get tangled in his hair. There was just something about him—an aura almost—that set Gamzee on edge. And he didn’t like it. At a bare glance he knew his blood caste- even though that didn’t matter there. He wasn’t a good omen.  
The clown stormed on across the desolate grounds and back towards the sideshow area. His chest heaved, his teeth ground together. He had to get rid of them; they were bad news. He didn’t care that they looked oddly like them. He didn’t care that a merged carnival meant new life to the whole place. He wanted them out before they fucked everything up. That’s why his alarm went off that morning; another Indigo-blood was within his presence. Another class of the same aspect: Rage. Gamzee could only imagine what Kurloz’s title was—and he didn’t think he wanted to find out.   
The silence led way to soft, off-key singing. Abbine was awake, and so Gamzee quickly put together a poker face as he rounded the corner of the gate. There the kid was, sitting in his chair with a blanket wrapped around him and swinging his legs back and forth. He was singing softly to himself, that same carnival song, until he noticed Gamzee, and immediately brightened. He smiled his wide smile at the clown and hopped up, running into his own trailer before returning. By that time, Gamzee had reached the fire pit and patiently waited for the kid, kicking at ashes.   
“Here!” his small voice chimed, and the clown turned to see what it was. The kid had brought out his backpack and plopped it down into the chair. He opened it and reached in; it containing only one item. He pulled out the hauntingly ugly puppet from his bag and smiled wide up at Gamzee. “His name is Cal! I want you to have him.”  
Stunned by the sudden gesture, he took it from the boy’s outstretched hands, looking over its features and marveling at the obscurity of the thing. “Aw, little bro, I can’t take this from you—“  
“No, I want you to have it.” He repeated and held it to Gamzee’s hand. “Maybe he’ll bring luck to you or something. I don’t need him anymore.” And with that he sat back down, yawning.   
The clown kept staring at Cal, occasionally glancing at Abbine. Replacing the previous anger, a soothing sense took over, almost swallowing him whole as he stared into the wide blue eyes of the puppet. It was almost a trance, and a dark, cloudy matter took over his mind. Gamzee shook his head, figuring he was just imagining things. He clutched Cal with both hands, unable to break his gaze with it. He slowly lumbered towards his trailer, already knowing where he’d put Cal—or rather being told where to put Cal, it felt like.   
It was a happy feeling, nonetheless, and he was instantly cheered for some odd reason. So maybe he had overreacted by storming off like that—or maybe not. He couldn’t decide yet.  
He looked back at Abbine, who had fallen asleep in his chair.  
“Welcome to the carnival! The bestowed and behold! The brave and the bold!”

The colorful clubs went up, twirled and came back down to be caught nimbly, swirled and tossed back up again. This was a daily routine that somehow never got old—for the clown or the audience. They loved Gamzee Makara—what a miracle he was! It wasn’t just the talented juggling skills he possessed, but the acrobatics he put into the entire show. Handstands with either one arm or two, riding a unicycle while juggling and even headstands were all parts of his routine. Hell, he figured, these people paid to see a good show, and that’s exactly what he’d give them. He loved his job.   
He liked to juggle all sorts of things like Bocce balls, glass bottles and even Nepeta if she curled up into a tight enough ball. The best he remembered doing was borrowing Kanaya’s chainsaw, setting one of his deuce clubs on fire and tossing them in a practiced manner, all with Nepeta curled tightly up. She was just that small and petite for such a performance to take place. At the end he had popped up the chainsaw so that it converted back into its lipstick case, caught it and the club in the same hand and balanced Nepeta with the other—she pushing up with her own hands against his.  
The clown focused as each colorful blur whirled past him, staring intently at where they each hit their highest point in the air before falling back down. That night he had them on fire as he rode around on his ridiculous one-wheel device and he’d end his final show by balancing on one arm, on the unicycle and juggling upside down. He concentrated on pulling off one of his better stunts since it’d have to be done quick and perfectly. He swooped himself backwards and caught his left hand on the seat of the unicycle, using his right to bounce each of the four clubs continuously upwards. Immediately the crowd cheered and jittered, amazed by such forceful skill and display of talent. In fact, it was one of the harder things to do, especially against the strain of holding still enough and not letting all the blood rush to his head.   
The sweat that had pooled on his back ran up towards his neck, giving an eerie feeling to Gamzee that he had yet to get used to. He waited those few patience-testing minutes before he felt the individual lock of his muscles from the strain, telling him he had extended his gravity defying limit. Careful not to gulp in air, he pushed off the unicycle and caught it neatly with his foot to keep it from falling. He reached up to catch all four clubs and brought them down for the night. Then he allowed himself to breathe deeper, gazing out over the small but packed crowd. Gamzee allowed himself to smile as he took in each elated and amazed face, ignoring the tinkering background music that thrummed in his ears. He bowed slightly, humbly accepting the whistles and applause.   
His eyes scanned the crowd again and his face nearly fell when his sight landed upon two particular trolls that he had not expected to be there and did not care to face. He had to keep a poker face; he couldn’t let anyone see his discomfort. Yes, he was hot and sweaty, but even then he had to pretend he was in perfect, tireless condition. There in the crowd, clapping lightly with a small, amused grin on his stitched lips stood Kurloz, an enthusiastic Meulin beside him, earnestly cheering him on like the rest of the crowd.   
Motherfuck, he thought to himself. What in the name of the motherfucking Messiahs does this motherfucker want?! Normally he wasn’t so brash—even silently—but the mirrored image of himself really just grinded his gears. Even without a proper introduction, Gamzee just flat out did not like Kurloz Makara—and that was another thing that really set him on edge. They all shared the same surnames. It was beyond creepy coincidence; Gamzee was starting to believe all this had been done on purpose. What sort of miracle was this supposed to bestow?   
Gamzee kept smiling and thanked the crowd as they slowly thinned out, trickling off towards brightly lit attractions like tadpoles darting about in a small puddle. Soon enough, only the newcomer trolls remained, along with Tavros and Karkat- who had always come by at the end of his show to walk back to their area together. Gamzee sat on the edge of the stage, his long legs nearly meeting the ground. The four approached him and he looked down at his feet, pretending to catch his breath.   
“You’re really gonna hurt yourself doing that one day, you know.” Karkat commented, like always. He wasn’t in as fit of athleticism as Gamzee was, so doing that would be more strain upon him than it was for the clown. He knew because he tried it once and swore to never do so again. That and he nearly pissed himself doing it.  
“It’s fine, Karkitty.” The clown waved a hand, using the nickname he knew Karkat despised.   
“Good show though, Gamz.” Tav added.   
“What do you two think? You had this kind of talent back where you came from?” Karkat turned to the other two, almost goading them on.   
Despite the fact Meulin was deaf, she had an excellent ability to read lips and rarely asked Kurloz to clarify things for her. She nodded energetically with her usual wide grin and waggled her tail to show her joy. “We had clowns. But they didn’t do much,” she talked loudly, nearly making the others wince. “They make those balloon beasts that kids are so fond of.”  
“That’s nothin’ compared to Gamz here.” Karkat proudly poked his elbow into Gamzee’s side. Despite his constant rave over how stupid Gamzee’s religion was (and adding on to that the fact that his sideshow act came from it to fit his use of clown makeup), and what a fuckhead he was sometimes, he was impressed with is moirail—especially since he couldn’t do much himself. His humor wasn’t suited for younger audiences (Scratch had made sure he hadn’t slipped up on that).  
Kurloz flexed his fingers and moved his hands about in a manner that only Meulin could read. The other three just stared until she translated. “Kurloz says that we can see that. Our carnival didn’t have any real talent; just raw resources. So to speak.” She giggled at her terrible pun that earned her a small glare from her presumed matesprit.   
Karkat only arched an eyebrow, an un-amused expression rising. He shrugged it off and looked to see how uncomfortable Gamzee was. He, along with the others, had noticed his uneasiness around Kurloz (only Kurloz, they noticed—the others he liked just fine or was more apathetic towards). He avoided poking his best friend to save him from an embarrassing moment and suggested they head back towards their grounds to get something to eat. Even though the two groups of twelve were stationed on opposite sides of the carnival, they had eaten together most nights in a sort of welcoming gesture.   
It was stupefying to the clown at how well some of his fellow trolls took to their similar new arrival, like Kanaya and Porrim, Nepeta and Meulin, and Equius and Horrus. Hadn’t they stopped to question their presence by the means of higher fate? No, of course not, only Gamzee believed in such. To them it was a scary coincidence that they’d have to face whether they liked it or not. Even little Abbine had gotten all overexcited at the new arrivals and was making it his duty to make friends with everyone. Except Cronus, the Eridan-double. He didn’t seem to like kids much.   
Gamzee reluctantly hopped off the stage after a final tug from Tavros and followed them back to the only place they knew as home, already having a slew of things to contemplate with Cal.


	5. Chapter 5

Their weekend was peaceful despite the obvious tension, and most lounged about, enjoying the rarity of full sunshine. Abbine, being an often sleeper as the trolls had soon come to find out slept with his head comfortably settled upon Gamzee’s knees, his reptilibeast clutched to him like usual. Gamzee only slouched back in his chair at the fire pit, watching Sollux and Eridan throw small sparks at each other for some stupid reason. The only thing dumber than Gamzee’s beliefs was the science-powered wand Eridan kept such high faith in—but of course that was because he was a Prince of Hope. Only Gamzee knew about titles, having read more of the books in their secret library on the troll’s history and culture—along with an entire volume on the legendary game played by twelve trolls so similar to them that saved their planet and race. It was only a myth, but Gamzee took to it like a duck to water. So he knew that Eridan putting so much belief into that silly wand eventually made it come true and would eventually lead to destructive tendencies. He was a Prince after all. Not that he’d do anything to stop it.   
His eyes eventually landed on Terezi, who was staring so hard in his direction that for a moment he could’ve sworn she wasn’t really blind. As if she knew he was looking, she stuck out her tongue. He flipped her off in return, but she only turned to face Karkat, who was lying on his back beside her with a white cloth draped over his head. He was sprawled on the grass with nothing but shorts on, complaining of being too overly hot. It made sense, considering his blood ran the hottest. Gamzee growled to himself at her gesture and scowled when she looked back at him again.   
For a small, flickering moment, his temptation to use chucklevoodoos on her ran wildly through his mind, but he repressed it. There were too many people around, and besides, what would he have her do anyways? Their kismesitude wasn’t so black that they didn’t do each other small favors, and if he asked for something as simple as a glass of water she probably would’ve gone to get one for him, flicking him for laziness or something. Gamzee only hoped Vriska could keep her mouth shut. It was only for the sake of his moirail; otherwise they wouldn’t have cared who knew and who didn’t.   
He mentally sighed and glanced around, seeing Porrim and Kanaya strolling arm-in-arm around the place, chatting busily away to each other as if they had always been good friends. Equius was working on that satellite device he had taken up as a project for the past few weeks, and Meulin and Nepeta were playing small games of “shipping” with each other, going over each other’s notes on who-was-red-for-who and who-was-black-for-who. Oddly enough, her usual shadow wasn’t around, and Gamzee didn’t dare inquire to where that bastard was. He did notice Tavros and his look-alike off by themselves, talking over Cod knows what. They had all been taken aback by the appearance of Rufio- who was what he called an actual mutant, with actual wings. They were like an insect’s in shape, translucently orange in color and entirely flexible. Meenah only blandly pointed out he simply sprouted them out one day when he wasn’t around to save him face.   
Abbine stirred only slightly before settling again, and Gamzee didn’t understand how the kid could stand to sleep out in the sun like that. Sure, it felt nice and all but it wasn’t something he wanted to bask under for extended amounts of time.   
A sudden sting to his forehead made him jump with an exclaimed, “Ow!” and he reached up to feel a smarting nick. He scowled until his eyes landed back on Terezi, who had another small pebble in her fingers, ready to throw it should her first one have missed. Her lips mouthed something, and in spite of his rising annoyance he focused on what she was trying to silently convey.  
“Tonight; the tree,” she lipped. “The tree” was their secret meeting spot behind her ‘fortunetelling’ tent where they often met to complain to each other, suggest (sometimes rudely) things they could do to better the other, bitch for something they did and sometimes just to straight up have hate-make-outs (and occasionally go even further). Inwardly he was reluctant towards her request considering he didn’t want to talk to even her about his issues with the other Makara, but it could be a good release. She would pester him until he told her about it anyways.   
Then she slyly pointed slightly towards her left without giving an obvious sign she was gesturing at all. Gamzee looked to see (speak of the devil himself) the other clown (of sorts) entering their grounds. Gamzee openly glared, but Kurloz only kept going, sweeping past him and the others towards Meulin and Nepeta, causing Equius to warily glance up. He was protective over his moirail and didn’t quite trust the other Makara either. He was greeted by the two Cat Ladies and sat down next to them, cross-legged on the grass like they were.  
“Hey, hey KK,” Sollux had stopped his small practice with Eridan and poked the snoozing Karkat with the tip of his shoe. “Get up.”  
“Why, shithead?” came his muffled reply.  
“Becauth you’re being a drama queen,” he retorted, making Terezi cackle.   
“No, really, do tell me what I’ve been so honored for with your fucking presence to interrupt my nap.” The grumpy troll sat up. “I’m just dying to know! Like I can’t even describe how fortunate I am to even be within your attention—“  
“Oh my Cod, thut up!” he interrupted. “You’re tharting to talk ath much ath Kankri.”  
Karkat snarled at the mention of his look-alike, who he didn’t much care for. He talked so Goddamn much, and that talk was nothing more than eloquent lectures full of words beyond anyone else’s vocabulary range—save maybe Kanaya or Porrim. Everything just seemed to be a problem or offensive to the troll, and already Karkat had been insulted with the comparison. “What the fuck do you want?”  
Sollux grinned in small victory. “Vrithka ith back.”  
That immediately cheered the troll and he hopped up, looking in the direction that Vriska was coming from, carrying a voluminous book that had come from their secret stash. Gamzee immediately recognized the book—it was the one that contained their race’s history and cultural aspects through the several past millennisweeps. He, Sol and Vriska had thought to look in the book for any similarity that might give a hint as to why the hell there were suddenly twelve other trolls very much like them. The other trolls around ignored her, save Equius- who regarded the scene carefully- for a book wasn’t something people really paid attention to at a carnival.   
She proudly strode over to where the three were standing and moved to a shady area better suited for reading in glaring sunlight. The other three sat around her, Eridan and Feferi joining them. They began to flip through the pages, scanning the index and key words.  
“Strange, isn’t it?” Aradia’s voice asked from behind the clown.  
Not even flinching at her sudden presence, Gamzee looked over his shoulder to watch her take a seat next to him. A large sunhat was pulled over her head to keep the light from her eyes and to keep her somewhat cooler. It wasn’t often a day like this occurred, and so she took every chance she could to wear the large, russet, floppy thing.   
“What do you mean?” he asked. “The other twelve?”  
“Well,” she answered after a moment. “That too. That book, I mean. You remember how we came into possession of it, don’t you?”  
The clown remembered perfectly well; they all did. It was one of the first few creepy coincidences that had ever happened to them. “Vriska filched it.”  
“And the guy she filched it from knew she was going to take it, and let her. He had even slyly set it up so that she would. What good would a random book be to us?” she spoke in her methodical way- light and airy, with an almost enigmatic tone to it. Her voice was soft and enchanting. “But it wasn’t a random book, now was it?”  
Gamzee nodded, looking back towards the small, huddled group. “Still makes me wonder what a motherfucker like him was doing with such a valuable piece.”  
Aradia smiled slightly. “Sometimes we are in possession of things we do not know the value of. But . . . I still think his was on purpose.”  
He did too, for the dark-haired guy had been dressed in a theme of blue with an odd symbol emblazoned on his shirt. A long, winding hood was around his head, and passersby thought he was a part of the carnival with his funky getup. That was what prompted Vriska to steal the book from him. Surely such a weirdo possessed something so priceless. Only she wasn’t aware of just how priceless it was. He had even smiled and winked at her as she ran off through the throngs of humans and trolls alike, the book tucked safely within her arms. They hadn’t seen the human since.  
“I don’t know why they’re looking in the book, though.” She continued lightly. “It’s obvious these new trolls are . . . connected to us.”  
That was something the clown hadn’t considered, so it actually caught his interest. “Connected? How?”  
But she only shrugged, to his disappointment.   
Well, that was just fine. He didn’t mind all that much anyways. Some questions just weren’t meant to be answered.   
Aradia reached over to pet Abbine’s hair, something she and Kanaya often did in a motherly gesture to the then-motherless child. She smiled vaguely to herself. “What a cutie. He certainly does like you, Gamzee.”  
“You got that, wicked sister.” The clown grinned. “Not sure why though.” He shrugged. “Whatever floats his boat.”  
“You’re not a bad person,” she responded. “I think you appeal well to the kids.”  
As if talking about him was a revival, Abbine stirred and stretched, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the bright light. He yawned and nearly fell off the chair and Gamzee’s knees as he adjusted himself, rubbing the side of his face. He sat up, and spied a small creature on the ground that immediately hyped up his attention and energy, as if he hadn’t even been asleep.   
He gasped in wonder and threw himself out of the chair after the jumpbeast as it hopped away from his sudden form hovering over it. He laughed and gave it chase, trying to catch it as it tried to find a cool, shady hiding place.   
“Curious creatures,” he heard Aradia whisper to herself as she watched the jumpbeast.

That night, as was requested, Gamzee slinked away after everyone had settled in for the night. Tavros hadn’t asked where he was going for he was already asleep. Gamzee had always been careful to keep from deceiving his Tavbro—he wanted to avoid lying at all costs. He went to the opposite end of their grounds, where a much smaller gate stood, this one only waist high and used by Eridan and Terezi to reach their areas of occupation. It was quieter in this direction but still attracted a good amount of people, like a hidden secret that a giant group of friends shared.   
Through the darkness he made his way towards the fortuneteller’s tent, the scarlet-draped thing a mere shadow in the night set against a vast void of emptiness. This was the edge of the carnival that bordered a small, dense forest. Going past the tents that Eridan and Terezi used a long ways brought one to the entrance of the carnival—the one less used and with that beaten up, incomplete sign standing out front, advertising the place to a desolate, empty road rarely used. The road was a long way to get into the neighboring city.  
He stepped around the tent, a slight breeze sending a chill through him and sending him a hint of her scent- that unmistakable and savory scent of sweet incense that she so often burned in her tent for added “gypsy” affect. It was a smell Gamzee loved, even more so than the occasional dab of floral perfume she donned. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, the looming oak tall and bold in outline against the silhouette the night made it look like. Crickets sang their nightly melodies in the distance, applauded occasionally by cicadas and chorused with tree frogs. Aradia had taught him the names of those creatures—she had a thing for humans’ animals.   
Gamzee stepped around the large trunk and leaned against it, looking down onto his kismesis, who was weaving a bracelet out of three pieces of turquoise-colored string. She paid him no mind, patiently waiting for him to situate himself in preparation of a long discussion.  
“I don’t want to talk about it.” He immediately stated, knowing she’d jump right to her point.  
“Well you should.” She answered smoothly, her fingers nimbly braiding the string perfectly. “I’m concerned you’ll do something stupid.”  
“And you’ll be there to stop me.”  
She looked up in his direction. “Gamzee!”   
He impishly grinned and sat down next to her, leaning back against the tree trunk as she was. As soon as he did, she thwacked him on the temple, frowning. He growled and waited for an explanation, holding his fingertips to the now-throbbing sore spot. His forehead still hurt from the stone she threw earlier at him.  
“What’s wrong with you? I’ve never heard you be so rude. You may not have to like them, but they are our . . . cohorts now.”   
“You mean to tell me you didn’t get the same motherfucking vibes from Kurloz?” he narrowed his eyes at the distant night sky, seeing nothing but layers of clouds dyed all shades of black and gray.   
“Well, yes, but that doesn’t mean I should be—“  
“I get it.” He snapped.   
Terezi pressed her lips together, resuming the weaving of the bracelet.   
He took a few breaths to calm down. To be fair, he had warned her, but still he knew she was right—Coddamnit she was always right when it came to how he should react, and that’s what he hated about her. In return, she hated him for being so damn mellow all the time, and she hated it even more when he helped to point out details of things she missed. She had a very analytical mind, combing through every fine detail, which meant that sometimes she missed other vital things—which he’d always catch and present. Their kismesitude was a fine, ideal black relationship, for they completed each other in positive ways and hated each other for making them better because of it.   
He sighed aloud and leaned his head back against the rough bark. “Well how about you then? You don’t like Latula.”  
“I do too like her.” she snipped in quick response. “She’s just . . . .”  
But Terezi didn’t finish her sentence. Her voice had daftly dropped off and sounded almost upset, causing Gamzee to look over. Cod, she was beautiful, even in the way the night traced out her features and hid them in shadows. Her lips were pressed together again and she was frowning deeply. She was well aware that he was staring and for once, she didn’t care. Let him taunt her for it; it’d only give her the strength to face it better.   
“Just what?”  
She could already sense a teasing coming. “A lot more . . . useful.”  
“Useful?” Gamzee snorted. “You’re fucking blind, what can you expect for your double?”  
She only sniffed, not bothering to think of a clever retort.   
He waited a moment, and seeing as she didn’t even go for his lead, spoke again. “So what? She’s an acrobat with a partner who can’t stay off his face. She also claims being unable to smell anything.”  
She hadn’t heard him say anything so mean in awhile. Kurloz must’ve really had him worked up. “Karkat says she’s fake.”  
Gamzee shrugged, and she felt his arm rub against hers as she did so. It wasn’t his place to comfort her over it. Besides, Karkat probably beat him to it. She seemed to spill some of her problems to him first—which didn’t bother the clown one bit.  
They sat in silence for long moments in time, doing nothing more than just sitting and staring off at nothing in particular. Terezi ran the finished bracelet through her fingers, the fabric soft and smelling of a blue Jelly Belly jellybean- her favorite brand of the colorful candies. Karkat had gotten her hooked on the sweets. Eventually she reached over and took his right hand, wrapping the bracelet around his wrist and knotting it securely with a slipknot. That way he’d be able to take it off if he wanted without having to cut or snap it.   
He looked down and fiddled with it, still warm from her touch. He smiled at the color—it was so her. “What’s this a reminder of?”  
She smiled to herself and shrugged, mimicking his earlier actions. “Maybe it’ll remind you of me.”  
He snickered. “And how you’ll come kick my ass if I’m not polite to that mute prick.”  
“Perhaps.” Her smile widened and she turned to face him. She wrapped her arm in his and leaned against his shoulder. She had been worn out lately, her senses being overloaded with too much information all at once. Meeting a shit ton of new people all at once did that, and sometimes it was hard enough simply on days that she had more customers in her tent than usual. They all wanted to know if their marriage was ok, they all wanted their palms read, wanted to know if they’d be rich, famous, if so and so was cheating . . . it wore her out, especially since the carnival was misusing the concept of palm reading. Perhaps she could talk to Doc Scratch about it . . . .  
He yawned.  
“You know how they got that way, don’t you?” she suddenly asked, her mind on the tragic topic.  
“Don’t care.”  
“You do too. Meulin says he dreamed of those things you always talk about.” She gestured her hand in the air.  
“True Messiahs and the Angels of Double Death?” his face scrunched.  
“Yeah, that. They fell asleep together when he had the dream and he let out a scream vaster than the . . . big honk or whatever.”  
“Great Honk.” He corrected bitterly. She knew this shit; she was only toying with him.  
“Mhm. It made her deaf. In remorse he chewed out his own tongue and sewed his mouth shut.”  
He thought for a long moment. Terezi wouldn’t make up a ridiculous story like that; she had a no-bullshit attitude towards that kind of topic. Besides, it did make sense; especially in the way they both looked. Surely Kurloz wouldn’t have made up being a part of the subculture that he considered himself a part of—and Gamzee had those types of dreams several times. He hadn’t ever told anyone . . . . He scowled in realization. He had less reason to be wary, but there was still some sort of warning signal that kept him at bay. Maybe he’d talk to Meulin . . . but she was hard to separate from her matesprit. He was almost as protective over her as Equius was to Nepeta.   
“What? No response?”   
He growled. If she didn’t leave him alone, he was going to snap. Hell, why couldn’t he anyways?  
She sighed and got up, standing over him. “Well then I’m going back. I’m tired.” He still didn’t respond, so she walked around the tree and tent, already headed back on the path she knew by heart.   
“Hey, Rezi,” he called before she got far. She paused, waiting for him to continue. “It’s been awhile.”  
She hesitated, really too tired to try to get herself in the mood. “Not tonight, Gamz. I’m exhausted.”  
In reality, he was too, but it was still a good way to relieve stress. He nodded. “Alright.”  
“You coming?”  
“Go ahead, I’ll probably just stay here.” He leaned back against the tree again, closing his eyes.  
“Don’t let anyone find you.”  
He listened to her light footsteps over the crunching grass softly pad away; a sound of grace. They didn’t want any chances of being alluded to possibly being found in this spot, so both were careful not to show any association with it whatsoever. He was too drowsy to get up and move, so he stayed put for the night, slumped against the tree in a position that would kill his back the next morning.   
Terezi continued on, slightly annoyed that Gamzee had been able to turn the tables on her like that. She hadn’t wanted to speak of Latula as much as he hadn’t wanted to speak of Kurloz, and yet it had come out anyways. She had indeed already spoken to Karkat about it—or rather, he pestered it out of her. She reached up to take off the ridiculous scarf around her head and folded it over her arm as she swept towards the small gate. If they suddenly decided to move things around, she’d probably have a problem with obstacles; otherwise she knew exactly how many minutes and seconds and even footsteps it took to reach the place.   
She latched the gate behind her and headed on towards the trailer she shared with her Scourge Sister. Theirs was on the end and closest to her gate and she was thankful for that for more than one reason. She tried to open and shut the door as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake Vriska, but could smell the vanilla tint of the small, fluorescent lamp they shared. Her nerves jumped—why was she still up? She continued in as if nothing was wrong and could even tell by the way she was breathing that she was awake.   
She heard the plop of something falling against the blankets towards her left where Vriska’s bed was and smelt the musky scent of a book. Terezi tried her best not to grimace, for she could almost smell that smug little grin on her face. Cod, sometimes she really annoyed the shit out of her. She kept walking past her and hung the mango-smelling scarf on a coat rack. She sidestepped into the tiny bathroom they shared and felt around for her brush. She listened with aggravation as Vriska got up from the bed, the peppermint sheets rustling and her soft footsteps coming closer. She leaned against the doorframe—even her tiny figure took up the whole space—and crossed her arms, giving her a look.  
“What?”  
“How was your night?” there was a tinted edge to Vriska’s voice, and it gave it all away.   
Shit, Terezi thought. She knows. “Fine?” she made a face as if she didn’t know what she was saying, continuing to gently coax the knots out of her hair.  
“Just fine? Surely with someone like Gamzee Makara, it wouldn’t be just fine.”  
Terezi whirled on her, giving her a scowl and placing the brush delicately back on the counter. “You can’t tell anyone. I mean it. If you do I swear I’ll tell Eridan about your little black crush—“  
“Nice try,” she sneered, moving out of the way as Terezi pushed past and towards their shared dresser. “But Kanaya already vouched to be an auspistice.”  
Terezi hissed, stopping to turn and face her again. “You can’t, Vriska!” she hated to sound so desperate, but Vriska was not someone to mess with or even assume things about. No matter which way she looked at it, she was going to hold her little secret as blackmail over her head, and for once, Terezi had no defense or counter.   
“Why?” Vriska sounded genuinely confused, if not a little disappointed.   
She took a deep breath and turned back around to rummage through the second drawer, feeling for her night clothes. “Karkat,” she mumbled.   
Vriska gave a sort of laughing hiss. “Taboo, isn’t it?” then she cackled aloud, making Rezi wince.  
“I’m serious!” she clutched some of the cloth to her chest and bit her inner lips. “Please. I don’t ask for much. And I’m embarrassing the shit out of myself even asking you to—no, begging, you to keep quiet. He’ll kill me and Gamzee.”  
The other troll cocked her head, contemplating. Secrets were no fun to keep- they were fun to tell! But Terezi was her friend, her Scourge Sister for Cod’s sake. She frowned, her excitement over the whole ordeal already over. “That’s going to be chaotic.”  
“I know.”  
“ ‘Cause then, it’ll definitely affect you and Karkat, and you and Gamzee. And Gamz and Karkles. And possibly his little crush on Tav, which’ll make me defensive, and then Kanaya will have a migraine trying to settle us all back down again—“  
“Shut up!” she hissed. “I know that, okay? I know!” she was nearly on the verge of tears, but she wouldn’t dare cry in front of Vriska. Not over this.  
She chuckled darkly to herself. “You’re really stupid, you know that? You need an ausp—“  
“No, don’t even say it.” Terezi pushed past her and back towards the bathroom. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”  
“Says the girl who just spent the night out with her kism—“  
“Shut. Up.” She slammed the door shut behind her, ignoring the laughter erupting from her roommate.


	6. Chapter 6

“Come on Gamzee! We got a lot to see!” Abbine was nearly whining, impatient as usual for the walk he joined Gamzee on every morning around the grounds. At first he had wanted to simply be alone, but found the kid’s presence to be comforting, especially when he dragged Cal along. Even with the motherly figures of Aradia and Kanaya (and even Porrim to an extent), the young troll had still built up his best interest with the clown and stuck to his side loyally. Abbine was polite and respectful to the other trolls, but at times it seemed as if Gamz was the only one he’d listen to. This was probably because everyone seemed to disappear whenever Abbine would get upset with the realization that yes, he had been abandoned by parents that he thought had loved him, leaving only Gamzee to comfort the poor child. 

“Kid, we do this every day. Besides, it’s ten minutes earlier than we usually set out at.” The clown replied as calm and patient as ever, speaking through a mouth full of toothpaste and foam. He had hardly gotten pants and a shirt on before the energetic troll was bursting in, demanding their walk be taken right then. 

“Well ten minutes we could have extra to scope the place out!” he hung around the corner of the bathroom’s doorframe, antsy and dancing a little to express his excitement.   
Gamzee spit into the sink, rising his mouth out with water and cleaning off his toothbrush. He laughed. “I like your humor, kid.”

Tavros reached over from the bunk beds and ruffled Abbine’s hair. It was nice to have someone around that was smaller and younger for once. “He won’t disappoint you, so, uh, don’t worry.”

Abbine grinned, clutching Cal to his chest in place of his reptilibeast. “He never does!”

“Alright, alright,” he left the light on for Tav and let the young troll lead him out of the crowded trailer. Abbine hopped over the four stairs and bounced a little as Gamzee descended behind him. He spun in a little circle before Kanaya was upon him, wrapping him in a scarf and forcing him into a light jacket. It was already nearing the end of summer and chill settled in fast at the carnival. The young troll grumbled until Gamzee patted his head, and they were off. 

“Precious, isn’t it?” Porrim, from behind Kanaya asked. 

“Mm.” it was a topic she had considered herself many, many times. But as was proven with the first initiation of having to take care of Abbine, it was nothing she knew about. Sure, she had read the books about young wrigglers and trolls, but actually having one was a different story. Besides, none of them had the time nor resources for childbearing—if Doc Scratch would even allow it in the first place. They were only just reaching adult ages, something comparable to the human years of early twenties and late teens, but Kanaya had always held the thought of raising a child of her own fondly from a distance. It wasn’t obtainable for her anyways; not yet. 

“Well, I came by so early to see if I could help you with breakfast.”

“Oh, thanks. Much appreciated.” 

The two turned to get started with the feeding of twenty-five trolls, a rather laborious task and sometimes mundane, but it was something they had a hand at. Karkat Vantas, on the other hand, had absolutely no appetite. He had watched from his window as Abbine walked off alongside Gamzee, that damned puppet in his hands. It made him sick, the way the thing stared with its snarky little smile and ugly gold tooth. Cod he hated that thing! He didn’t understand what Gamz found so fascinating with the damn thing. Sure it was a gift, but Jegus. There was a reason dusty shelves were invented for not-so-re-gift-able gifts. Gamzee had been acting so strange lately, ever since he had that stupid little spark of irritation over Kurloz. Sure, the guy was just another clown that wore his underwear over his pants but he wasn’t all that bad, considering he couldn’t speak. His mouthpiece was no worse than Nepeta, and Karkat could handle her on a good day. It just seemed somehow that he had become slightly withdrawn, hardly smiling widely and always just staring off into the distance. 

He couldn’t figure it out. What the hell was wrong with his best friend? He couldn’t try talking to him or else he’d clam up even more so. Tavros didn’t know and Abbine was hopeless to focus on one subject for more than a few seconds. He had tried not to worry about it, but damn that was hard when he was his moirail. It was his responsibility to make sure Gamzee was okay, and he felt he was failing terribly. Maybe he could get advice from Nep or something—but he shot that down quick. Those two weirdoes were the last ones he wanted advice from. Okay, so maybe Kankri was the last, but whatever.   
Karkat heard Eridan stirring behind him and moved away to look as if he wasn’t doing anything in particular. He wasn’t in the mood for a Q and A. 

“Fuck. Kar, hav-ve you seen my glasses?” 

Karkat turned to see Ed squinting around, patting the empty bedside stand. “I don’t keep track of your shit, fuckhead.”

“W-well someone is certainly grumpy.”

He only growled in response. He lifted the edge of the blanket that draped on the floor and looked underneath, only to see that ugly peach-colored carpet and nothing else. He shrugged, even though the other troll wasn’t even looking, and tried to hold back a laugh as he nearly ran into a wall.

“W-where the fuck are my glasses?!”

“Don’t you have a spare?”

“V-vriska broke them.”

“Oh yeah . . . .” he placed his hands on his hips, thinking that perhaps that’s what he could get the troll for Gristmas or something. Ed bumped into him slightly, tugging on a clean pair of his silly pinstriped pants and stumbled towards the door. Karkat only watched in slight amusement, knowing he was off to yell at Vriska only to be interrupted by Kanaya, like always with their problems. Or maybe he’d yell at Sollux; they were in the middle of a prank war.

Karkat followed him outside, already dressed, frowning to show his mood for the day. Well, Gamzee would be gone for at least another hour and Terezi wasn’t a morning person. That only left him to mope about to himself while he watched his dumbass friends be dumbasses. Cod he needed better insults. He noticed Porrim’s presence, and immediately an idea struck him. The other trolls (“Alphas” as the twelve had come to call them as a sarcastic joke) ran on the same schedule as they did, so they would just be waking up as well.   
He left the area, walking swiftly across the grounds should he catch someone staring or pointing obviously at his nubs for horns, and towards the other side of the big top. That was where Scratch had the Alpha’s own area (similar to theirs) set up. It wasn’t as hidden as theirs was, but it was still obviously marked off by a waist-high, chain-link fence. He went in, already uncertain of where to find exactly who he was looking for.

The Eridan-double was folding some cloth at the closest trailer, and he turned to look at the troll’s arrival, cocking a douchy grin around his unlit cigarette. Karkat hated to make eye contact, but he also hated to be rude. 

“Who you lookin’ for, Nubs?”

“Don’t call me that you insufferable prick,” he spat back. “I’m looking for your clown friend.”

“ ‘Tch. No friend of mine.” He shrugged, turning his attention back to folding the extremely long, cream-colored sheet. 

Karkat was suddenly uncomfortable at the way that Damara troll was glaring at him, taking overly long drags on her own cigarette (lit) and frowning. He didn’t like these people. They were just . . . strange. “Yeah, look. I need to find him.”

Cronus jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Try the third on the left.”

The Alphas had an interesting setup to their own little section that was their new home. It was bright, and colorful, with miscellaneous streams of random décor placed about. Paper lanterns with candles in them, colorful strips of cloth or string, lights and glittery pieces of something Karkat thought looked like glass icicles hung about everywhere, some even overhead as he walked between trailers—twelve in two neat rows. It was definitely more festive than their own spot, but oddly out of place. 

Damara gave him an odd twist of look that was a mix between a scrunched nose, grin and scowl, further giving Karkat a reason to ignore her. He didn’t have to second guess at where the clown he was looking for was—for his matesprit sat upon a ledge against their shared trailer, swinging her legs and singing some song off-key.

Damn, Karkat thought. She must’ve had a pretty singing voice before going deaf. 

He slowed to a stop before her, noticing she wore an overly long green sweater that ended halfway down her thighs and nothing else that was visible. She lowered her singing to a loud hum and smiled down at him. Was she ever any other mood than excited? 

“Hi,” he started quietly, feeling utterly stupid for talking to a deaf girl. Terezi had assured him she could read lips, but she was also known to mess with him. “I’m looking for your—er, Kurloz.” He was mumbling, causing her to pause in humming and tilt her head, a confused expression coming across.   
“You’re going to have to give more pronunciation,” as usual, she spoke loudly, making him wince. “I can’t read mumbles!”

He kept his gaze focused on her, flushing from the fact that he was in foreign territory with a deaf girl yelling out all his business. He gathered himself for a moment, reminding himself that he had to stay calm and focused. He opened his mouth to speak when Kurloz slowly came around the corner, wiping his bare hands on a rag and looking disturbingly blank- not that he ever gave much more than smiles, frowns and occasional middle-fingers.

Rudely, Karkat couldn’t help but stare at his hands; it was the first time he had seen them without the gloves he always wore. They were pale, and boney, long and slim. It wasn’t his hands exactly that scared the shit out of Karkat, it was just the fact that they looked just like Gamzee’s. He had heard his moirail rant over the kooky coincidences, but he had never really taken them into consideration. He quickly shut his gaping oral receptor and made eye contact with the disturbing troll.   
“I needed to talk to you if you were free.”

The troll offered him a slight nod and small smile. 

“It’s about Gamzee.”

Kurloz’s expression didn’t falter. He waited patiently, nearly creeping Karkat out with the way he just stared . . . with those eyes. Gamzee’s eyes.   
He mentally slapped himself into attention and cleared his throat lightly. “I want to get to the point. He’s been acting really weirdly lately. I know there’s a few possible reasons, and I hate to insult you with me thinking it’s you. Honestly, I’ve always thought he’s been a fucking loony, but he’s almost been . . . sobered up lately. So, I wanted to ask if something happened between you two. I know he doesn’t exactly like you—okay, fuck, he nearly hates you. But . . . .” Karkat stopped himself, taking a deep breath. Cod damnit he was ranting again, something he had told himself he wouldn’t do.

Kurloz’s smile only widened. He signaled to Meulin rapidly, his expression still unmoving. The loyal girl focused wholeheartedly on his flexing fingers and hands and turned to Karkat to translate once he was finished. “He knows that, but he’s done nothing outwardly threatening.”

“To anyone? He gets a little . . . anxious when others intrude.”

But Kurloz shook his head, signaling more. “He says it’s because of their shared faith.” Meulin stated, absently twirling a lock of her lusciously thick and wavy hair around her finger. “Purrhaps your furrend just finds tension in having another one like him around.”

It was an easy, plausible reason, yet it just didn’t sit right in his ears. That couldn’t have been it—or could it? Then he regretted always tuning Gamzee out when he started up his long, winded speeches about double-whatevers and death angels or some shit. His gaze turned away to focus on the blandly gray grass and he let a deep, concentrated frown show through. 

“He wants to know how long Gamzee has been acting this way,” she continued, starting up on swinging her legs again lightly.

“Since you arrived.” He mumbled. Meulin was about to ask him to repeat himself, but Kurloz held out a hand to stop her, for he had caught it perfectly well. 

Her blue tail twitched as she watched his fingers again, but already Karkat wanted to leave. He had gotten an answer and he still needed to confront Gamzee, somehow.   
“Should he go speak with your furrend?”

Karkat’s attention jerked back up to meet theirs. “No! No—uh, sorry to be rude. It’s just . . . I really don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Excuse me.” The three turned to see the Karkat-look alike had come up to them. Karkat stiffened, preparing himself mentally for a hammering about triggers or something offensive. He stood straight and hardly glanced at Karkat- he was well-aware that the troll wasn’t too fond of him. But he was there on serious matters- well, somewhat. “I explicitly hate to interrupt, but I’ve found it upon myself to come and deliver the news of Mituna’s misdoing. I figured as his moirail, you’d find it your place to take control of the situation and go assist him.” Kankri looked specifically at Kurloz. “I only ask because I can’t find Latula either.”

Without needing another implication, Kurloz took off in the pointed direction. Mituna was known to be clumsy and often fall or get himself into odd situations that always ended up with himself getting hurt. Normally Latula was pretty good about keeping him in line, but on the occasion it took Kurloz to keep him straight—especially in the way he had terrible mood swings that were either angry and violent or calm and quiet. 

Meulin giggled to herself, instantly starting up a complaint from the red-sweater troll about how it was a serious matter over his potential of accidentally harming himself or others. She only rolled her eyes and waved a hand to him, never truly taking him seriously. It frustrated Kankri to no ends, but at least she was one of the few who would actually listen—or read his lips, rather. 

Karkat wiped at imaginary dust on his shirt and turned to leave. To his annoyance, Kankri tagged along, claiming that for someone like himself, it was “rather unsuitable and entirely reckless to go alone”. Karkat had responded that Porrim did it by herself that morning and that had shut him up for a few minutes, but of course, it was short lived.  
“Would you mind my inquiry about your friends and yourself?” Kankri asked, oblivious to the people around them that were staring openly at the two “twins”. “I hate to intrude, and I only want to understand the whereabouts of how you all came to be under such circumstances. This isn’t the brightest place, and certainly upbeat anyhow. I’m curious to no end.”

“Um . . . .” Karkat, more obvious to the eyes following them as they walked along, hesitated. “I don’t know. We’ve been here ever since we could remember. I don’t know if we were born here or not, but it feels pretty damn close that way.”

Kankri was keeping his eyes solely focused on Karkat, a small frown tugging at his lips. “Really?”

Karkat waited for more, but nothing came. He nodded to answer his short—a rare, one-word sentence!—question and they continued on weaving through the crowds of people beginning to file in for the day. The usual smells of fried foods, questionable body odors and oil hit their scent receptors and the cheerful, jingling music of various rides and attractions edged them further into receding behind the safety of the tall fence.

Already a hubbub of excitement and commotion was audible. As the two rounded the corner, Karkat wanted to already retire for the day and let no one disturb him. He was getting sick of unexpected twists and turns. The trolls were all gathered together around something or someone, each straining to see whatever the center of attention was. Karkat could just distinguish Kanaya—or maybe it was Porrim—at the center of the crowd by her horns. The two stopped at a distance, both reluctant to go and see what was going on.

Karkat was just too tired for anything new. He had had enough excitement for the month. Kankri went on ahead without waiting for him, and so Karkat merely stood back, uninterested. He looked around to see that Gamzee and Abbine hadn’t returned yet and noticed Terezi searching for him. He was tempted to try and hide, but once she caught his scent he was helpless. He stood where he was, watching her approach him with a furious, brisk energy. She was grimacing, which meant something bad had happened.  
He crossed his arms.

“Karkat, you’re not going to be happy.”

“When am I ever happy?”

She reached for his wrist, but he tensed and remained in his spot. “What? Come on, you have to see.”

“No.”

“Karkat! Now isn’t the time to be stubborn! We need you to help us decide what to do.” Terezi tugged harder.

“No!”

She stopped and faced him, pausing before she spoke. “What’s wrong with you? You’ve been in a terrible mood all week.”

“Don’t fucking worry about it. Leave me alone.” He turned to go, but she caught his shoulders nimbly and turned him to face her again. He growled but she didn’t let go.   
She waited patiently, but he refused to speak. She cleared her throat as a sign of her impatience.

“Later, okay?” he mumbled and jerked away from her grip.

Terezi let him walk away to do Cod knows what, somewhat stupefied. He hadn’t been speaking to her much at all recently, and it was really starting to irk her. It wasn’t like Karkat to just spill about all his problems, but even so he wasn’t a total recluse about it. She bit her lip, trying to restrain getting upset over him being an asshole and folded her hands together in front of her. She wasn’t sure if she had just been dissed or not, but it sent an unsettling pang through her stomach.

“What’s going on?” Gamzee’s voice startled her, and she jumped, swirling to face his direction. 

She sighed, taking in the smell of caramel and apples. That stumped her a bit, until she heard the crunching of Abbine on the delicate treat. She gestured in the direction of the crowd. “They’ve . . . I mean, Porrim found . . . .” her mouth gaped a bit, but she couldn’t get the words out. She was too upset to really speak at that moment, despite her earlier resolve of keeping calm.

“What about you?” he asked. He had just come in to see Karkat storming away to leave Terezi standing there. “What’s wrong with Karkles? What’d you say?”

She hissed. “I didn’t say anything.” Pale, turquoise tears were beginning to brim in her lusciously red eyes. She flushed that same turquoise color and clenched her fists.

“Hey, Rezi, I didn’t mean it like—“

“I didn’t do anything!” she snapped and stormed off in the same manner Karkat had. She ignored him calling her name and her sniffles and sobs faded as she gained distance.   
Gamzee watched, mystified at her reaction. He had to have—no, Karkat had to have done something to upset her in such a manner. He looked to Abbine, who tuned out what just happened like a pro, and was still munching away on his caramel apple. The young troll was eagerly watching the crowd, already wanting to see what was going on. He was holding Gamzee’s hand with Cal tucked under his other arm. His face was covered with the stickiness of the apple and his hair flopped in all different directions.

The clown grimaced in Terezi’s direction; she was long gone. He inwardly sighed to himself and stepped forwards with Abbine. A few of the other trolls made way for them since they had yet to see this amazing wonder, and the two made their way towards the center, where Kanaya and Porrim stood, huddled together. Kanaya had a cloth bundle in her arms and was lightly rocking it back and forth. 

“What happened?” he asked again, this time with less enthusiasm. Kanaya held the bundle just so that Gamzee could see the face of a tiny, just-hatched wriggler. His eyes went wide. “Where the hell did that thing come from?!”

Kanaya only gave him a look, bringing the bundle back towards her protectively.

“We found him by the gate,” Porrim answered, and pointed her thumb towards the gate less used by the trolls. “Just there, by himself and whining.”  
“Another kid?” Gamzee eyed Abbine warily, who was stretching up on his tiptoes to see. “Kanaya, we can’t take in another—“

“But I couldn’t just leave the poor thing there to die either.” She answered just as quickly.

“Sea? I told you!” Eridan held out his hands in emphasis. He obviously was not keen towards taking in yet another troll. “W-we don’t run an orphanage.”

“Certainly you’ve taken up enough responsibilities with the first abandoned troll,” Kankri started. “Are you certain you’ve still got enough space and requirements for another one?”

“It won’t be that bad!” Nep chimed. “We’ve taken care of Abbine just fine!”

“No.” Equius added. “It is most unusual to do such; we’ve already had enough responsibilities to fulfill, we do not need any more.” 

“Chunk him,” Vriska frowned.

“I’ll kill you if you do,” Kanaya hissed.

“Absolutely not,” Kankri cut in. “Grubs, no matter who the parents or guardians, age, gender or blood have any reason to be tossed aside, abused, mistreated or otherwise given any sort of misconduct towards. After all, it is defenseless, and it is rather irrational to even contemplate giving such a horrid act upon it. The grub has not bothered anyone in any way, therefore shouldn’t simply be treated as if it were a filthy rag. He is simply in need of capable guardians. I find it a sensitive trigger—“

“Let’s not fight over this one too—“ Feferi started, only to be drowned out by the immediate clamor coming from the trolls. 

Gamzee backed away, wanting no part of the arguments. He had bigger things on his mind and he didn’t much care that there was a new wriggler that was inevitably going to be added to their numbers. He wasn’t going to get roped in again; Abbine was enough for him. Seeing him leave, Abbine turned and followed the clown away from the group, wondering what the big fuss was over. It was just a wriggler, so what? At that moment, Gamzee only wanted to go see what crawled up Karkat’s ass so he could at least attempt to fix things. 

He told Abbine to stay behind and watch the place—the kid loved to pretend he was on guard duty—and left for the spot that his best friend had often ventured off to when he wanted to be alone. He stayed along the edge of the carnival, walking a great distance from their area. They would just have to accept the consequences later of missing their shows, and Gamzee wasn’t much in the mood to smile and laugh for pretense anyways. He shoved his hands into his pants pockets, slinking along and carefully eyeing each tree of the lining forest as he passed them. They were like the silent guardians, the onlookers of blind truth and obsolete intentions. 

Eventually he came down to where the forest parted a bit into a field, and Gamzee officially stepped off carnival grounds and into the wilderness. He kept to the edge of the forest and eventually reached the end of the field where it erupted back into the densely-packed trees. There was a large boulder that sat almost like a cornerstone right on the edge of where the land and trees met, and he stepped around it. There sat Karkat, scowling at his hands and running a pocket knife over a twig, dulling the blade for no reason and giving him no use. 

The clown sighed and stood for a few moments before sitting beside his best friend. Karkat’s scowl didn’t lessen, but at least it didn’t deepen. There was almost no noise as far back as they were; just wind, animals and occasional gunshots from the distance indicating hunting rifles. It was a quiet, peaceful place, and one that Karkat had made special just for himself and Terezi. It wasn’t one anyone else knew about, save Gamzee. He watched as Karkat continued to assault the thinning twig over and over, splinters in the wood forming and breaking. He seemed to grow somewhat flustered with Gamzee’s presence, but still he said nothing. The only indication he gave was the fact he was cutting at the stick faster and faster until he nearly nicked his finger with the knife.

Gamzee took it from him, receiving no protest. He closed it and placed it on the ground between them. Karkat only tossed the twig away and placed his head in his hands, covering his face.

“What’s wrong, bro?”

The Living Mutant only shook his head. 

“Do I need to really provoke it out of you?”

“I have a lot of shit to deal with, ok?” he snapped.

“Well I know that, motherfucker.” He smiled a bit. 

Karkat hesitated. “So what was it?”

“What was what?”

“The big fucking deal that everyone’s pissing their pants over.”

“Oh,” Gamzee scratched his chin. “Kanaya’s adopting some grub she found.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he mumbled. “A wriggler. God damn it all I swear I’m going to have to ban her from taking in every Goddamned kid she sees.”

The clown laid a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t sweat it, bro. But back to the topic.” He reached down and pulled a bottle of Faygo, half-empty, from his pocket. He opened it and took a long swig, pausing and then holding it out to Karkat. The troll pushed it away.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I didn’t come all the way out here for silence, brother.”

“You would’ve followed me anyways.”

Gamzee laughed, following it with a honk. 

They both sat quiet for a bit, the clown allowing his friend to gather his thoughts. He knew he’d speak; he just had to give Karkat time. His friend took up chewing on a piece of grass—which was amazingly green in this area. He thought it was rather strange of him to do, but better than nearly slicing his finger off. 

Finally, he shrugged. “I’m worried about you.”

Gamzee turned to look at him. “Why?”

His friend only glanced at him. “Because you’re acting all loony and stuff. I don’t see what the big deal is over Kurloz and whatever, but really Gamzee it’s like you’re somber all the time.”

The Miracle thought for the longest time on that, nearly convincing Karkat he had insulted him. Alright, so he hadn’t kept his act up as well as he should have, but it still wasn’t something he could hide from forever. But hadn’t Karkat been listening to him? He told him a million times that Kurloz just gave him bad vibes. He was probably a really cool guy, just ominous and enigmatic. It was his aura that put Gamz into a bad mood. 

Karkat looked to him and waited, wondering if he even wanted to know what was going on in his head. Sometimes Gamzee was really unpredictable. Sure he was laid back and   
pretty much okay with everything (no matter what it was), but sometimes his spontaneous ideas were erratic. 

“Everyone really wants me to get along with a motherfucker huh.” He was staring off into the distant sky, sipping at the soda in his hand. “Well when he shows up to murder you all, I’m going to laugh at you.”

Karkat rolled his eyes. “I highly doubt he’ll go on a murderous rampage.”

If only he knew what titles were and that Kurloz is the Prince of Rage, Gamzee thought, having figured it out days before. It wasn’t hard, based on their similarities, be he just knew there was more under his silent (no pun intended) demeanor. After all, he chewed his own tongue out and sewed his mouth shut. No ordinary angry person would go so far to settle a wrong they committed. Only, his was an accident, leaving him in despair. So, Gamzee had figured, through his anger he did something destructive to himself. It only made sense then that he was a Prince of Rage. 

“Hey!” Karkat snapped.

“What, motherfucker?”

“I’m talking to you!”

“I’m fine.” His expression turned serious. “Karkat, I don’t understand why everybody fucking thinks there’s something wrong between me and the other fucking Makara. Do I have to bend over and kiss his damn feet for everyone to be fucking happy?”

Karkat was taken aback. He clamped a hand on Gamzee’s shoulder. “Hey chill out, man. That’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” he frowned and paused. When he turned back to Karkat he grinned. “My turn.”

“What?”

“I have questions, motherfucker.”

“What now.”

“You made Rezi cry.” 

Karkat gave him a funny look. “What are you talking about?”

Gamzee gave him the same look in a mocking manner. “Really bro?”

He looked away and shrugged, frowning again. “What’s she upset for?”

“Hell if I know!” Gamzee shrugged, draining the last of the Faygo. “I’m sure if you just talked to her everything would be fine.”

Karkat didn’t respond, but leaned his head back and closed his eyes, sighing. There wasn’t anything wrong between them, so he thought.


	7. Chapter 7

During the next two weeks the trolls found themselves having to, once again, get settled in around a new member. Of course, not everyone took to the new grub that Kanaya had taken in upon herself to raise, and the ones who did argued over what to name it. It was too young to have a determined gender just yet, so if the troll wasn’t called “Andy” then it was something some other troll had randomly designated for him. “What kind of name is ‘Andy’ for a girl?” Ed had sneered. “What if it’s a boy?” Feferi had responded. “Andy ith a thupid name anywayth,” Sollux chimed. On this went for about an hour until the name had just stuck, despite whatever gender it would turn out to be. 

Gamzee, for the sake of shutting everyone up, gave no indication to his discomfort around Kurloz. He didn’t interact with him, per say, but he at least acted as if there was nothing absolutely wrong. He had almost snapped when Kurloz spent nearly a whole day just staring at him, making no other expression. He didn’t know if it was just to taunt him or what, for Karkat had told him about the small conversation he had with the other Makara. 

It could be said that things were somewhat falling apart within the carnival. The trolls, to be precise. The carnival itself was at its peak, having more visitors and being better than ever. New structures were built to replace the old, rotting ones and nearly everything that was paintable received a fresh, new coat of bright color. Slowly, the Caliginous Carnival had gone from bland to bright, even underneath the ever-persistent overcast sky and grayish grass. Doc Scratch had put the maintenance to work, and had been seen several times in deep conversation with the Noir character that everyone felt uneasy about. The Alphas didn’t know who he was exactly; they had worked under him at their own carnival anonymously. 

Equius, to try and bring some entertainment for the trolls, had finished his satellite device and had built a bigger graphics box stimulator while he was at it. Sollux had helped in setting it up to a working stability and tested it to find that it worked to perfection. Technically, it was bootlegged TV, but no one really cared. Nepeta was finally able to watch the Beast-Planet channel all she wanted to, and Karkat could pick a cheesy romcom for everyone else to suffer through. That was perhaps the only improvement that the trolls had within their secluded fences, otherwise everything was a mess.

Kanaya had her hands full with the wriggler, having no ideas on what to do most of the time. She had quickly found that he was much harder than Abbine, and for once, they didn’t bother to go to Scratch about it. No doubt he already knew of the grub anyways. 

There was an obvious problem growing between Terezi and Karkat, but neither confessed nor spoke of it, and seemed to avoid the topic at all costs. Terezi wouldn’t even speak to Gamzee of it, nor would Karkat, undoubtedly pissing him off and making him give up on the ordeal. It was giving him an enormous amount of nervous energy, especially since they were both in his quadrants. For once he was glad Karkat didn’t know about the kismesis, otherwise the current situation would’ve been even worse. Other times he would’ve felt guilt for it. If neither was going to take him up as their friend and at least tell him what the fuck was wrong, then he’d just stay out. 

Eridan and Sollux were beginning to bicker a lot more, often brining Feferi in between them as a result. Twice they had gotten into a fight above simply yelling at each other. Both times, if Fef hadn’t interfered, it would’ve gotten physical. It was hard for even Nep to decide if the seething hatred between the two would turn into a kismesis, for it seemed like it was absolute, pure hatred rather than caliginous romance. Not even his past kismesis with Vriska had been so heated. Sollux despised Eridan in a different way anyways. It caused tense silence whenever they were both in the same area simultaneously.

Terezi’s elbow jammed hard into Gamzee’s ribs, snapping him back to attention. He looked down from where he had been staring at the ceiling of her fortunetelling tent. She was sitting in one of the worn-out, red-upholstered chairs next to him, taking off the overly obnoxious jewelry that she wore as a part of her costume. He kept running the bracelet she had made for him through his fingers, the soft, cottony threads becoming a comfort for him. It still even held traces of her scent, somewhat faint but still enough to make his toes curl. He had been waiting patiently for the past hour for the last person she had for the day to finally leave, to finally stop asking questions that were senseless. 

They hadn’t noticed the clown’s presence, and if they had they quickly forgot about him. He simply sat quietly in the corner against Terezi’s warnings not to do so while she was working, and let himself drift off into daydreams of better places. Places that didn’t include the circus life—as hard as that was to imagine for him—places where they could blend in like normal people- maybe even like humans, and not get pointed at, laughed at or called freaks. 

“Hm?” he finally responded, a few minutes after she had tried to get his attention. She had begun to unwind the scarf from around her head, like she always did after her shift was done for the day. She didn’t much like the grapey smell of it, but it was one Gamzee had given to her years before, and so she kept it and wore it every other day. 

“You know you’re not supposed to be here.”

The clown shrugged. “Yeah, well, I was bored.”

“Go play with Abbine.” 

“He’s with Aradia. Karkat’s busy, like usual and I don’t feel like listening to Sollux and Eridan bitch at each other.”

She didn’t respond, but continued to de-accessorize until she was comfortable. She turned to face him, raking her fingers through her silky, raven hair. Everything about her was taboo for him, and yet, it wasn’t something he could easily resist. He watched her appraisingly. 

“Well, I guess while you’re here I could ask you something.”

“Like what?” he slouched in the uncomfortable chair. 

She frowned slightly. “Well . . . I just don’t think things are working for us anymore.”

He only stared, blood rushing to his face.

“For me and Karkat, I mean.”

“Why? What happened? Did he fucking say something—or hurt you?” the clown straightened, taking on a serious demeanor with a defensive tone. It enraged him to think Karkat would ever do such a thing to her, and for a few fleeting moments, he had to fight back the thoughts of him striking her.

“No.” she answered simply and calmly, unaware of his assumptions. She paused, shrugging. “Do you think we should break up?”

Gamzee thought for a moment, settling back into his chair. He looped the bracelet around his fingers, eyeing her carefully. For selfish purposes, he would’ve said yes—so he could have her all to himself, perhaps even openly display their kismesis—but he had to keep in mind that Karkat was his moriail, his best friend. Terezi would be upset for awhile, as would Karkat, so it wasn’t like he could immediately celebrate. “What’s wrong, exactly?”

“He just keeps pushing me away. I don’t know what it is.” she sighed mournfully, closing her eyes, her long, thick eyelashes black fans against her ashen skin. “It’s as if he suddenly detests me.”

He didn’t want to give an answer. He didn’t want to tell her yes, and he didn’t want to tell her no. It wasn’t his place to judge anyways, but he had a drowning feeling that Karkat would probably come and ask the same thing if Terezi presented her doubts to him. It was times like this that he really did not know what to do. 

“You’re not going to help me either.” She grunted, and began to gather the things she had strewn about. “I can’t believe I even told you.” she stood with her various ornaments in her arms and began to blow out all the candles providing shady light within the dark tent. 

“Well, you are dating a very difficult person, I mean Karkat isn’t exactly the cheeriest motherfucker—“

“That’s my specialty, isn’t it?” she stopped for a moment, leaving hardly any visible light. “Dealing with difficult people.”

Gamzee frowned at the insult and held back his own retort. “You asked me.”

She continued to stand there, facing away from him and seemingly shivering. He couldn’t tell in the dim lighting. 

“You’re so condescending, you know that?” he spoke. 

Her heart fluttered. “Just because I know how to affirm in the proper means of legality and justice does not mean I am arrogant.” 

“You are arrogant, Terezi.” He stood, a grin forming on his face. He tied the bracelet around his wrist and sauntered slowly towards her, knowing he was hitting the perfect spot for pissing her off. “Your fucking pride keeps you from seeing that you’re wrong.”

She cocked her hips, her head tilting. She put up a defensive stance. “And what, per say, Mr. Makara, makes me wrong with my problem? How am I wrong in the matter of Karkat ignoring me if not rebuking me?”

He shoved his hands into his pockets, grin widening and coming up behind her. He towered over her- as he did most people anyways- and it gave him the feeling of being superior. He was over her anyways! Gamzee leaned down towards her ear. “Because.”

“That’s an utterly abominable excuse, one that will get you nowhere—“

“Because,” his voice raised for that one word as his interruption. “Because you always think you’re in the motherfucking right. You always think you have the better hand in things, just because you can judge individual actions.”

She hissed, and for that, he lightly nipped her ear. In return she raked a sharp nail over his arm, still refusing to face him. “You’re an idiot!” she growled. “An absolute moron! I’m perfectly capable of admitting that I am wrong, thank you very much—but you’re still avoiding the topic! Any more irrelevance, clown, and I’m disbanding you from my presence.”  
“Yes ma’am, Your Honor!” he mocked and straightened up again. 

She sighed in exasperation, uselessly rolling her eyes. She shook her head. 

He chuckled, a hearty, mirthful laugh followed by one of his annoying honks. He wrapped his arms around her, leaning down so that his chin rested on her shoulder. She crossed her arms, scowling at the tent wall and wanting to scream at him. 

“I’ve got a plan,” he suddenly stated, speaking at a low volume, as if he were afraid of being overheard. 

“What kind of plan?” Rezi was wary against him. He had several so-called plans that had all ended in disaster and chaos for his amusement. 

“A motherfucking beautiful one for all the wicked miracles about to descend upon this rock. I want to paint a beautiful fucking picture with all sorts of colors. Terezi, my wicked sister, I can guarantee things are about to get motherfucking wonderful up in this oppressive state. I was thinking, thinking real motherfucking hard, and I realized something. Those twelve trolls; they are us. They are us from some alternate universe or something not as fucking stupid. And you know what that means?”

“Gamzee, that’s the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth.”

“It means that I have to do something about it. Even Cal agrees that something must be done. If I don’t, hell, they’ll run us over, into the ground and dance on our motherfucking graves—“

“Wait,” she twisted in his arms to face him. “You mean to tell me you talked to that puppet? Have you lost your—yes, yes you have definitely lost firm grip on your thinkpan.” She began to unwrap him from around her, pushing him away. “I can’t believe how stupid you are. You are the most babbling, moronic idiot I have ever met. You talk to puppets now, Gamzee?”

“You’re missing the point!”

“And what are you going to do, then?” she threw her hands in the air, scowling at him. “Tell them to leave?! I mean seriously, why rant and rave over all these stupid metaphors if they don’t even mean anything?!”

He gave her a dirty look that she’d never see or know about. He frowned deeply, his fists clenching at his sides. This was exactly her problem. She looked so deep into things that she overlooked everything. “You’re missing the motherfucking blueprint that I got laid out for you. You really think that Noir character means good will? You think Scratch is Mr. Goody-two-shoes? Open your motherfucking blind eyes, Ms. Pyrope, ‘cause you’re about to miss the motherfucking show.”

With that he turned on his heel and stormed out of the tent, leaving behind nothing but a cold chill down her spine and his comforting scent. Terezi took a steady, slow breath, fear starting to surge though her. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe him, it was just that she chose not to, which only strengthened the point he had made about her. She was just too stubborn to admit it. Why the hell should she bend to Gamzee’s will? She was better than he was! 

Nodding to herself in assurance, she blew out the remaining lit candles, gathered her things, and traced his long strides back to their area, letting her best poker face settle in and ready to give a fake explanation of why she was late, should anyone ask. Despite the fact that Gamzee hadn’t helped her decide on what to do with her problem with Karkat, she already knew what she was going to do. Rezi didn't have time to think about his ridiculous metaphors and similes. One problem at a time, she reminded herself; one step at a time.

She stepped back through the gate, shutting it nimbly behind her and directly heading for her trailer, tired and hungry. She could already smell scents of meat and spice wafting around, and so she knew she was just in time if not a little early. Vriska wasn’t in when she opened the door, and for once she was glad. Terezi placed the items crowding her arms down in their proper places, patting the head of her favorite dragon in the whole world; Senator Lemonsout. He sat on her bed in his proper place, standing guard over her silent fortitude and representing all that was dear to her. She smiled, taking in his bursting citrusy scent, and calmed herself down tremendously. Perhaps her stomach could wait a few seconds. 

Terezi sat on the edge of her bed, holding her favorite plushie to her chest; a gesture of her childhood long ago. Or so it felt so long ago. She’d die if she was caught dead hugging the stuffing out of the little dragon doll, but in reality it was a small comfort in such an insufferable world. Some habits you never grew out of and each man to his own. She grinned, thinking over what her kismesis had said. She almost hoped he wouldn’t do anything drastic, but knowing Gamzee, it’d be over the top and ostentatious. Then she regretting not asking what he was going to do, but he was too mad at her at that moment to speak, so she’d just have to wait.

There was a shuffle of movement outside before the door opened, and she nearly flinched, tossing Lemonsnout over her shoulder. Immediately she caught Vriska’s blueberry scent and relaxed. The only thing was that she was giggling, immediately putting her on guard. 

“Oh,” Vriska stopped somewhere near her, obviously disgruntled with Rezi’s presence. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“I guess.” She kept her face clear.

“Go eat.”

“What’s the rush?” Terezi let a small grin creep onto her face, for a familiar, persimmon and a faintly octane scent drifted to her nose. They had a guest.

“Gog, just get out.” Vriska’s tone had turned sour with impatience. 

Terezi stood, grinning widely. She heard nervous shuffling and more than one pair of feet. “Alright, alright. I’m going. But aren’t you hungry too?”

“I’ll- I’ll eat later.” She slightly cleared her throat. 

Rezi shrugged and left the trailer. “Hi Tav,” she called over her shoulder just before she stepped out. Vriska growled and slammed the door shut behind her. She laughed and made her way towards the fire pit, taking in the voices of the trolls, plus the Alphas, all murmuring excitedly in their normal way. Rezi drifted towards her seat, but then took a last minute change and sat next to Gamzee instead, just to feel his discomfort. 

“There you are, dear,” Kanaya stated as she handed Terezi her bowl. 

She sniffed at it—moobeast again. She wasn’t a big fan of the milk-producing animal that humans seemed to feast upon more than any other creature, but it was at least savory. 

“What made you late?” Karkat’s voice from her other side piped. He sounded tired.

“An insecure lady who had to know every detail about her cheating boyfriend.”

He scoffed, saying nothing else towards her. She frowned to herself, carefully bringing up a spoonful of the stew to her lips and blowing on it. Well fine, if he was going to act that way, then she was too. She carefully, slowly chewed and swallowed before turning somewhat towards the clown.

“I need to ask you a question,” she said in a low voice. Karkat glanced up at them.

“Well spill it then, wicked sister.” He didn’t look at her, but his voice was calm and guarded.

“Later.” She settled back into her seat.

“What’s the matter?” Karkat asked. 

She only shook her head, not answering. Crossing one leg over the other, she looked towards where she could smell the small bonfire burning—a scent all too familiar thanks to Vriska’s little cahoots with Tavros. 

He grunted. “Tell me.”

“No.”

Gamzee glanced nervously towards them. Surely she wasn’t going to make a big scene about it. He’d step in if he had to, but he didn’t want them making fools of themselves in front of everyone.

Karkat was taken aback, for Terezi had never really been so assertive before, and her manner was defensive and cold. “Terezi—“

“Karkat.”

He clamped his mouth shut, scowling at her and temporarily giving up. His eyes met Gamzee’s for a split second—and that split second was all it took for him to know something was up. The clown had tried to hide any emotion he’d been showing, but Karkat knew better. He knew he should’ve taken Gamzee’s advice, but he didn’t. He wiped it off his shoulder like an unwanted piece of lent. He looked away first, and his best friend followed suit. There little charade hadn’t gone completely unnoticed, but the others were smart enough to keep their traps shut.

The three ate in silence amongst the others, who carried on as if they hadn’t noticed. Gamzee silently blamed Terezi for openly saying such a thing, knowing that Karkat was right beside her. What was she even trying to do? Deliberately piss him off? Apparently. 

Only half-finished, he abruptly stood, taking off in the direction of the carnival grounds. Terezi’s expression didn’t change, and she acted as if he hadn’t been there in the first place. A few stared after him, and Gamzee grimaced. That meant he’d have to go after him. He sighed and stood slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. He wanted to hiss something profane at Rezi, but that’d draw attention towards their blackrom, so he kept quiet and stepped around the scattered chairs. 

He stepped out towards the gate and onto the carnival grounds. It was a beautiful place at night, with the dark ground reflecting all sorts of brilliant colors from the vendors, rides and decorations. Each color danced around the other, playing a game of chase like two trolls in a kismesitude would. The tinkling, fanfare music was intensified, filling his ears with the sound of his home, the sound of his calamity and comfort. He breathed in, the scent of night, people and the fair filling his nostrils. 

Gamzee slinked around, keeping towards shadows to keep from running into anyone as he scanned for his short friend. Sometimes he really hated having to go and retrieve the troll like a barkbeast to a ball, but it was better than letting him get into something stupid—like he knew Karkat would do. A few people glanced or stared at him- he wasn’t the brightest clown in the world- and for once he kept to himself. 

A small, clustered and boisterous group of people caught his attention, and against his better judgment, he went to investigate. They were clustered near a themed tavern for the older adults to frequent, and nearly yelling at one another. It was then that the clown saw his friend, nearly face-to-face with a human, yelling feverously and with strings of volatile curses. It was only when Karkat took the first swing that Gamzee started to sprint, pushing away the onlookers. Trolls and humans alike either stood awkwardly by or cheered them on.

From what Gamzee could see, Karkat was no match, and the blur of fists and arms hitting flesh and popping against bone made him move faster, shoving the tightly-packed group out to the side until he reached the center. His stomach nearly flipped as the human landed a perfect punch to Karkat’s eye, but he immediately stepped in between the two, fisting his hand in Karkat’s shirt. The two kept at it, swinging with excelled aim and taking out more flesh on the other. The human’s friend stepped in, holding the guy back and Gamzee pushed Karkat away further with his arm. There was still too much uproar to hear anyone’s voice individually, so Gamzee only gave Karkat a disgraced glare and led him by the arm out of the group.

Karkat squirmed and tried to push him away, but the clown’s tight grip kept him in place until they were far enough away that the group was nothing more than a shadowy blob. He let go and immediately the smaller troll turned on him. “What the fuck!”

“Walk away now before I pick you up and shred every last strand of your dignity that’s left.” 

Karkat stopped, breathing heavily and bleeding. His sleeve was ripped and several cuts criss-crossed on his face. The guy must’ve been wearing a ring. He glared off at nothing, too excited to stand still. He huffed, growled and puffed in between exasperated breaths. His left eye was starting to swell, and was nasty red and purple colors. It seeped some fluid, no doubt something burst from his eye, and bruises were forming around his neck and jaw.

“Damnit Karkat, what the motherfuck were you thinking?!” The smaller troll growled and shoved him- not moving his tall, lanky form much. “Hey!” he reached out and papped his moirail’s head, lightly. “Stop. You’re being irrational, motherfucker.” Karkat growled and he papped his head again.

He stopped moving around, and his chest heaved. Gamzee couldn’t tell if it was because of his asthma or if he was crying, but either way he was fucked up. The clown’s anger quickly faded and was replaced with pity. Poor kid. Well, he wasn’t a kid anymore, but he sure as hell acted like one. He was making sobbing sounds—or something similar to it, so the clown reached forwards and placed a hand on his shoulder. 

Karkat tried to push it away. Then Gamz could see it- the pale, translucent, cherry red of tears and his mutant blood falling around his cuts and bruises. He was in pain; that much was obvious. He clamped his hand harder, keeping it in place upon his small, square shoulders. 

“What’re you thinking?”

He shook his head.

“Karkles, you can’t just get into fights like that. Fuck, they’ll kill you man. You know there’s some humans out there that don’t like us trolls. Especially ones like you. Didn’t you know that?”

He nodded, his breaths sounding heavy and clogged. 

“Come on, man. Chill the fuck out.” Gamzee wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He looked down to see Karkat’s hand in the same condition- cut, bloodied and bruised. “What made you do that?”

They slowly walked forwards, the clown supporting the other straggling troll. He again shook his head, refusing to speak.

“Bro.”

“I can’t—“ but he left his sentence abruptly cut off. The clown waited patiently until Karkat started up again. “Fuck. I fucked everything up.”

“What?”

“With Terezi.”

“She just wants attention, bro.”

He shook his head. “It’s more than that. I fucked it up!” he growled, getting worked up again and nearly yelling. Gamzee papped his head, and immediately Karkat fell into a subdued rage, feeling sore and numb in his face. He reached up and felt a big, puffy lump where his eye was supposed to be, and it almost felt numb- like it had been under an icepack for thirty minutes. As he poked at it, more fluid and tears leaked from it, stinging his cuts with the saltiness of them.

Gamzee pulled his hand away to prevent him from making it worse, and tried to remember who had their shared bottle of hydrogen peroxide. “Naw man, you just keep walking away. Stop doing that.” Blood was starting to drip from Karkat’s nose and onto his shirt. He wondered if Kanaya could get blood stains out of it.

Karkat only angrily shrugged, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand. 

“Can’t believe you did that,” the clown mumbled under his breath. It only made Karkat feel worse.

They finally reached the gate, and there Karkat pulled Gamzee to a stop.

“There’s no point in hesitating, bro. They’re all gonna’ see you like this.”

Karkat considered it over and glanced up at his moirail, his dark eyes gleaming with the tiniest hint of that brilliant red color that he tried so hard to hide. It was such a beautiful garnet color- one of Gamzee’s favorites. Karkat’s eyes shone with pity, hurt and bruised ego. He looked up at him with a sort of unsaid thankfulness, one that he’d never verbalize nor conclude, but that was fine with Gamzee. It was okay because Karkat would be okay- and that’s all he needed. That alone only made him look down further on his secret blackrom. He was being a hypocrite and spited himself for it.

The troll’s breathing had calmed, but was still labored and husky sounding. 

“You okay?” Gamzee tapped his shoulder. 

“Can’t breathe.” He let his eyes fall back to the ground, his chest still heaving.

“Take it slow. You’re doing fine, other than getting the shit beat out of you.”

Karkat huffed, and the clown wrapped his arm around his shoulders again, leading him in through the gate. As soon as they were in visible light, Kanaya gasped and ran up to them, chiding Karkat for his carelessness. Before she could do anything else, Gamzee led him to his proper seat and sat him down, keeping firm hands on his shoulders. He stood behind the chair, keeping Karkat seated and reaching down for Terezi’s hand. 

Gamzee took hers and laid it in Karkat’s, smacking them together when they tried to pull away. Then he pulled out a piece of loose string that he always carried for no reason in his pocket and tied their wrists together. Karkat didn’t even get enough spite to protest. Instead he slumped in his chair, squinting at the brightness of the fire and the heat stinging his swollen eye. Terezi grimaced and growled but took his hand like a good sport, wanting to squeeze the death out of his knuckles.

Her frown lessened when she felt the cuts and roughness of his tattered hands, but still she kept just as silent as he did. 

Gamzee moved around them and sat in his own chair, Abbine immediately running up to him for inspection.

Kanaya sighed and walked over to the troll with a rag soaked in water. She knelt down before him and gently dabbed at his face, frowning. “What kind of example is this for Andy?”  
The clown looked to see the small, green wriggler seated in Porrim’s lap contentedly, staring off at the commotion and squeaking for attention. 

Karkat didn’t answer, forcefully holding Terezi’s hand shamefully and avoiding anyone’s gaze.

“What even happened?” she asked.

“What does it look like?” he hissed under his breath.

“Holy fuck KK, you got the thit beat out you.” Sollux nearly laughed at the whimsical appearance of it all. Feferi gently poked him with her elbow, reminding him to shut up.   
Karkat looked up with his good eye—which had a nasty cut above it—and smiled tautly at the troll. He was almost defeated, in a way. That, or too tired to deal with anyone’s crap.   
Abbine asked the clown a million questions, each to which he stared at some tattered part of Karkat. Gamzee only ruffled his hair and patiently explained that sometimes bad things happened because smart people let their anger get the better of them.


	8. Chapter 8

Jack Noir gazed over the trolls from a distance, contemplating their interactions with a nefarious attitude. What wicked souls they were; something that just didn’t belong here on Earth. He didn’t either for that matter, but it was simply a matter of time before he could remove himself and return home. As soon as he had heard about Doc Scratch’s carnival he had to investigate for himself- he could be a business man when he wanted to. What better way to rid of the abominable nuisances for his Black Queen than roping them all together at once? Of course, things had to be played very carefully, for Scratch was not one to easy outmaneuver in this game of chess. 

They just didn’t understand each other, which was what made Jack hesitate. Why weren’t they taking precautions to one another? He’d expected at least half of them to kill each other by then—especially those of the Scorpio and Cancer bloods. They seemingly embraced the others’ presence with the exception of one of the Capricorn bloods. That one was calculating, observant and undeniably smart. Noir was going to have a hell of a time ridding of him. 

He narrowed his eyes on the group, taking in the smallest troll jumping and dancing around the Indigo-blooded one. Well, technically he was the second-smallest, taking into account the wriggler. He wouldn’t touch that one—that was a senseless death. Perhaps he’d leave the kid alone too. The Black Queen’s ring suddenly felt heavy around his finger, and an ominous, ambiguous shadow crossed over his mind. There was another change about to take place; he could feel it. The first was getting all twenty-four trolls together, which was executed flawlessly. The only remaining hindrance was keeping Doc Scratch from seeing what he was going to plan. It had to be carefully kept between spontaneous and rigid; a perfect combination of uncertainty. 

The tall one: that was the main one that he had to keep an eye on. The others didn’t understand his potential, one that Jack could only presume he was aware of. He even wondered if Scratch was aware of his power- a truly terrible, destructive force that wasn’t to be reckoned with. Patience was a virtue—and Cod how he hated this place. For years he had raised those trolls through a distant veil, for years he ran his own carnival while waiting for the right time. The time was nearly here; the countdown clock was almost up. Then it was a matter of idly wasting time.

He could do that easily, perhaps even distract the trolls and Scratch for moments longer. Things were going so smoothly, so perfectly, that he couldn’t help but feel a little smug. Not that it’d ever show; his expressions were blanker than a white piece of paper. He nearly laughed when the smaller troll got into a fight; poor kid. He could’ve bet ten boonbucks that Spades Slick would’ve gaped and facepalmed if he found out. 

Noir was going to complete the contract made millennisweeps ago, and then, he could go home.

 

 

Andy skree’d and squeaked until Gamzee bent down low enough for Abbine to pick him up gently from Kanaya’s hands. Perched on top of the clown’s shoulders, Abbine was on top of the world—and the kid loved heights. He was on lookout- for what no one knew, but that was alright. Gamzee was happy to oblige to him and Cal. The puppet sat around his neck in a similar manner, flopping over Gamzee’s head sideways and held in place by Abbine. The kid placed the wriggler gently in Gamzee’s hair, where it squeaked happily at getting the same attention that Abbine was.

Holding onto his horns, the young troll guided the clown to continue parading him around, pretending he was scoping the place out for spies. It was nice for the clown to finally have some time to think to himself- for talking with Abbine was easy, especially in the way it was simple role playing. For one, he needed to get on with his ‘cleansing’ as he wanted to call it; ridding of the Alphas. At the most extreme level, he’d take it up to Scratch, but for now he’d do it himself. The only problem that he was still figuring out the kinks of was exactly how to get rid of them—all starting with that Noir character. Gamzee didn’t like him, and he knew that the entirely black figure didn’t like them either. 

“Gamzee!”

“ ‘Sup little bro?” he stopped to crane his neck up at his shoulder’s occupants, nearly making Andy slide off his head. The wriggler skree’d until Abbine righted him again.

“Let’s go spy on the Alphas! Just to make sure they aren’t spying on us,” the young troll narrowed his eyes, and no doubt he was pretending to be a big war general. He puffed his little chest out and held onto Gamzee’s horns diligently. 

The clown lightly laughed. “I don’t think they’re spying on us.”

Abbine thought to himself for a moment and then looked down to the wriggler, who was staring up at him blankly. “What do you think, Sergeant?” he nodded his head at the nonexistent answer. “Good idea. We stay here, at base.”

“Cal what do you think?” Gamzee added in; best to go along with it.

“He says ten-four, Captain!” 

The clown grinned, pausing again in their charade as The Amazing Mindfang approached them, looking rather pissy and determined. He kept up a wide smile, not daring to show his displeasure at having to deal with her bitchiness. 

“I got a little problem,” she stated as she marched right up to him. She pointed a finger to his face and lowered her voice. “With your little blackrom.”

“What’s a blackrom?” 

“When you’re older, I’ll tell you kid.” Gamzee reached up to pat his arm. “What about it?”

But Vriska didn’t respond. She only let her clenched fists fall to her side, staring at something behind him. She only hissed and huffed, glaring back up at Gamzee as something tight clamped around his arm. 

“Is there a problem, Vriska?”

“Woah—where’d you come from?” the clown flinched at Terezi’s sudden presence and vice-like grip around his arm. 

She was digging her nails into his flesh, and it was hurting in a terribly uncomfortable way. The Blind Prophet stared her Scourge Sister down—in a figurative manner, of course—frowning deeply and nearly sneering at her very presence. Vriska only growled under her breath and continued to glare up at the clown, who was becoming tense.  
Gamzee watched as her eyes continuously flickered back and forth between the two, only once glancing up at Abbine and Andy, who were both watching indifferently. Abbine was too young to understand, and Andy probably didn’t understand speech much just yet. It was bad enough that one person outside of their kismessitude knew about them, and it just had to be Vriska. Well, at least it hadn’t been by Terezi’s doing. 

The clown was beginning to lean towards Terezi, she was clutching his arm so tightly. Vriska’s eyes finally settled and met with Gamzee’s, holding them with an affirmative, deathly grip. Carefully he reached around Abbine to try and pry her nails out of his skin, which was turning indigo around her fingers. 

Vriska took a step closer, the two nearly touching. She ignored the growl that erupted from low within Terezi’s throat and stood on her tiptoes, still only reaching up to his chin at the highest. “Hurt her, and I’ll kill you.”

“I’ll hold you to that—Terezi, please let go.” He breathed through clenched teeth, still pulling at her hand.

“You’d better, Makara. I’ll string you by your shame globes.”

“Vriska,” Terezi warned. She understood where her friend was coming from, but threatening Gamzee was crossing the line. Vriska wasn’t one to take lightly when she made threats; she never skipped out on one. 

With that, the troll relaxed, falling back to her natural height and cracking a wicked grin. All eight of her pupils bore into him with unceremonious intention, promising more than what she verbally made clear. “It would just be terrible,” she hissed in a whisper. “If someone were to just spill it, don’t you think? Such a shame.” 

“I don’t get it.” Abbine commented.

Vriska smiled sweetly up at the young troll and twirled around, walking away with a prompt air. Gamzee looked towards Terezi for an explanation, hoping she could at least sense it. She only pressed her lips together and finally released his arm. 

“Gamzee, I don’t get it—“

“Later, little man.”

“But—“

“When you’re older.” 

Abbine grumbled to himself but stopped pestering him.

“We got into an argument last night over it,” Terezi mumbled.

“So she comes to threaten me?” The clown sneered. 

She shrugged and left in the opposite direction. Sometimes he really hated how brisk she was; it irritated him to no end. He rubbed at his arm, feeling the beginning strains of sore muscles if not a bruise. He could even feel the crescent-shaped indentions of her nails. Too bad it wasn’t meant in a black way—only in a defensive manner over Vriska’s intrusion. Maybe it’d be a sweet reminder for him later, but for then it was just painful. 

He reached up and lifted Abbine off his shoulders, dragging Cal along with him. The kid protested but was immediately taken up with the thought of starting up another game. Gamzee carefully untangled the wriggling grub from his messy hair- it pulling at it like he was trying to hang on for his life or something. He finally freed him and held him in his hand, the little thing staring up at him with confusion. How easy, he thought, it would be to just close his fingers around the creature and suffocate it. Or crush it. All with one easy maneuver. And to think they had all been like that once; sweeps ago they had been as tiny, helpless and defenseless. 

He smiled down at the wriggler, knowing it had no idea or comprehensive ability to understand the superiority he held over the little thing. Its life was literally in his hand, and for a fleeting second it made Gamzee feel powerful. He could hold every ounce of his place in the blood caste over the lower-blooded one; but it was such a pitiful waste. It was only a grub, after all. What good was having power when there was no method of use for it? There was a reason for execution; but this little one had no mark of extermination upon him. If he found the parents that abandoned little Andy, however . . . that might end differently. 

Gamzee quickly found Kanaya and placed the grub delicately back into her care, Abbine tagging along like normal and asking a zillion questions and talking at fifty miles per hour. He ruffled the kid’s hair, and stalked off towards the stages. He needed to see how his bro was holding up. Even getting beat the fuck up wasn’t enough to make him skip out on his shifts- ironically enough. It was almost as if Karkat took pride in hating his disposition. It was certainly undeniable that he loved to hate things. 

Abbine slipped his tiny hand in the clown’s, like he occasionally did, and Gamzee glanced down. The kid was humming to himself- that carnival song that had become so familiar now- and glancing out over the crowds, silently envying the children who were led by their parents or sat on their shoulders. He trusted Gamzee deeply, and the clown took it for granted. He wasn’t used to being relied on, and it was a disconcerting feeling. He smiled down at Abbine, even though he wasn’t looking, and lightly squeezed the kid’s hand.   
He tugged him along, dodging out of the way of a busy Tavros, whose arms were filled with coils of rope piled high over his head. He was occasionally tripping over the one loose strand that straggled along the ground, and there was absolutely no way he could actually see where he was going. Normally, Gamzee would’ve offered to help—that was his Tavbro, after all—but the notorious white figure caught his eye instead, nearly making him forget Abbine’s presence. Before Doc Scratch stood an abashed Karkat, glaring up at him from a lowered head. It was a poor attempt of submission, but Karkat wasn’t left much to dawdle with considering he had been personally singled out.

The clown pulled Abbine to a stop, carefully eyeing the two figures converse from a distance and already growing angry with the confrontation. Karkat, in no ways, looked happy, as might be obvious. Maybe he’d bump Scratch up a few notches on his hit list. He could only imagine that the boss man was reprimanding Karkat for getting beat up and daring to show his face. As Gamzee assumed, he was right, and it was only in the most polite manner that Scratch was doing do. He narrowed his eyes and felt a hot surge run through him.

Right now, he thought. Do it right now.

He bent down on one knee to be face-to-face with Abbine and placed his hands on his shoulders. He was becoming giddy, but he didn’t want the kid to know; he didn’t want the kid to see. “Go on back, kid, I’ll be by later.”

“What? But we were just going to—“

“Abbine.”

The kid was obviously upset, but Gamzee didn’t have time to play maybe. He only huffed and puffed a little before hanging his head and stomping away back towards their grounds. He was only pretending; Gamzee knew the kid could never be mad at his very best friend. He dragged Cal along with him, the ugly thing being trucked through the grass and cold-hardened dirt.

Gamzee stood and turned back to face the two figures, who hadn’t moved one inch, save Scratch’s gestures with his hand. He reached into his left pocket that could hold just about anything and withdrew one of the several deuce clubs he owned; one which he carried around on occasion. The smooth handle was a comfort to him, made his energy hype and blood rush. He rubbed his thumb over the black grip tape, grinning and beginning to move forwards. He flipped it over in his hand, the handle gliding smoothly and landing back in its proper place.

His steps quickened and his pupils widened in concentration. A theatrical sense took over; a Janus logo of trepidation and utter thrill. He didn’t care, he didn’t care, he didn’t care, he didn’t care—he didn’t motherfucking care because he was going to motherfucking kill a motherfucker! His loose grin widened into a lusty smile—one only a carnival clown could fire into the obnoxious proximity of insecure notoriety. The club flipped faster over his hand, matching his steps, matching his adrenaline and determination. 

Only a few steps—a few justified steps for the first out of many attempts to liberation. He was going to motherfucking kill a motherfucker! It was a ring so loud in his head that he nearly screamed with glee. How dare the Messiah-damned motherfucker ever put down his brother! This false idol was nothing more than a pseudo demigod. 

And that ‘pseudo demigod’ turned with absolute precision and landed his marble-white fist squarely in connection against The Miracle’s mouth before the club even flipped over again. Gamzee was halted, stupefied and foolishly caught off guard. It wasn’t enough to make Gamzee stumble all too much, but just enough to bring him to a stop. His arm was only partially raised, the club dangling in danger of falling out of his hand. 

Doc Scratch turned and stood in a way that he was facing both Makara and Vantas at the same time, resuming his previous and usual position of standing straight with his arms behind his back in an amiable manner. Karkat’s eyes had popped and his jaw had dropped, but there was no use in standing up for the stupid clown, especially against Scratch. His eyes only nervously passed between the two.

“The goal for any employee is to placate their boss. Attacking them is never a decent suggestion, but I can surmise that stopping you would keep you from hurting yourself and others.” His electronic voice spoke affirmatively, like always, without flaw in execution. “Perhaps you need more rest, Mr. Makara. I suggest it strongly for the fact you’ve been dawdling on a chemical imbalance that is obviously affecting your decision-making capacity. Perhaps, if you need it, I can arrange for a recuperacoon that would definitely help better than the human mattresses do.” 

Gamzee didn’t speak, but only stupidly reached up to touch his split lip, which was smarting and felt like he’d been slammed with a brick and dunked in ice water. His teeth hadn’t been broken or loosened, but they felt like they were ready to fall out. He moved his jaw, the impact not having been absorbed by any sort of protection. The pain didn’t bother him as much as seeing his own blood. Sure, he’d seen his blood plenty of times before from scratches, bites and other various injuries, but in the so-called “chemical imbalance” Scratch implied, it gave a sort of demur. It was cold for blood, and the trollian book had taught him all about different bloods, but a hot shock ran through it, almost like a pulsating edge.

“Perhaps some sopor would do well to calm you down.”

Gamzee glanced at Scratch’s hand, but not a single sign of use was upon the unmarked, seemingly unlined, flawless skin-thing. He wondered what it’d take to dent the damn motherfucker. 

He lightly cleared his throat, and turned his spherical head in Karkat’s direction. “Now, if you will, Mr. Vantas, I shall take my leave. Stay off the stage until you’re fully healed.”  
With that the man-thing dissipated in an electrical flash of a light, small green sparks following. As soon as he was gone, Karkat’s shocked expression fell into his hands, followed by a pained groan erupting due to the fact he basically smacked his own face. His shoulders sagged and his head slowly moved back and forth, face still hidden.   
The clown obliviously poked at his lip, licking at the cut and ignoring the bitter taste of his blood. His sharpened teeth weren’t helping, but he was one of those people to pick at scabs until they bled, so to speak. His lips felt swollen and feeling was slowly starting to prickle into numbness. He smiled—yes, smiled—and began to breathe in relief. For one, his Karbro was okay for the most part and two, things went exactly as planned.

He snapped to when he felt a rough pressure against his chest. Karkat had (unsuccessfully) shoved against his chest.

“I can’t believe you! You fucking moron! Cod, I am so pissed! I could just kill you!” he yelled, not caring in particular who was around. It caught the attention of Feferi, Aradia and Sollux, who were on their own ways to the proper stages, carrying various items for performances. They hesitated, but seeing bleeding Gamzee stand there roped them in, nearly rushing in panic. “You’re so fucking stupid! What the hell was that even for?! That was Doc Scratch, in case you got your faces mixed up—God damnit he doesn’t even have a face!”  
“Yeah,” he finally spoke, feeling talking taking weird effect on him. “But now I know how fasht and in whaht way he movesh.”

The clown’s answer stumped Karkat for a minute, but before he could respond, Feferi was already dabbing at the clown’s lip with a rag, chattering about being reckless and asking a ton of questions. 

“Ith thith national get-yourthelth-beat-up week?” Sollux asked, giving a snarky outlook on the situation. It earned him an elbow to the ribs from Aradia. 

“Did you guys see that?” Karkat turned to them furiously, gesturing wildly.

“Whaht thid he thay, Karkath?” Gamzee asked quietly, picking up on a lisp due to Feferi’s pressure on his mouth and the sudden handicap. 

His moirail ignored him. “This moron,” he gestured with both hands in a grand manner to the clown behind him. “Decided he’d try to knock on Scratch, so what happens?”

“Oh Gamzee,” Feferi bubbled in a worrisome way. “How could you?”

“I had to learn thomhow.” His eyes narrowed towards the treetops in the far distance. “And I’m going to keep learning.” 

“Learn what?” Aradia asked. She took closer to Gamzee’s words than anyone else did, mostly because she had such a literal interpretation of everything.

“Stop it, you stupid fucking clown.” Karkat turned back and slapped the club out of his hand. “You’re being psychotic.”

“Are you all blind?” Gamzee pushed Feferi’s hand away. Dry air nipped at the exposure of the cut, but the coolness setting in helped to soothe it. “Don’t any of you thee? How mucth longer do I have to keep ranting? Thith ithn’t right.”

Karkat only cocked an eyebrow, Sollux looked indifferent, and the other two only stared incomprehensively. The clown’s moirail only reached out and half-heartedly placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to give a stern look. He felt ridiculous, considering his face was a nice, splotchy blob of reds, purples and sickly blacks in some places. “Gamzee. We can talk about this later, ok? For now you need to sleep. I do too. And—“

“Karkath thop. You can’th avoid it forever.”

“Avoid what?” Feferi inquired.

“The change he keepth talking about.” Sollux answered. The clown’s eyes flickered to his for a short second. 

Karkat hissed, withdrawing his hand and shaking his head. He had to sort things out. Things were moving slightly too fast for him to keep up with and that result was already evident on his face. And of course, being the psychopath’s moirail on top of things nearly caused the strain to snap. Hell, he almost felt like going over the edge and killing someone too. But unlike some people, he was going to have some control. 

“You guys better go on,” he stated to the other three. “I think it’s about time someone listens to the clown.”

They hesitated and glanced at each other, avoiding Gamzee’s at best, and eventually filed away, silent. When they were out of eye and ear shot, Karkat grabbed Gamzee’s arm and began to head towards the main eatery area of the carnival. He needed sugar, and chances were the clown did too. He knew exactly what he was craving; an elephant ear smothered in powdered sugar and chocolate syrup. He was pretty sure the human diet was a terrible, greasy thing, but Cod was it delicious. Sugar did funny things to his body but it was almost an indulgence.

Gamzee only followed his friend through the crowds and towards the long lines of the always-busy vendors, wavering through the motions and not paying attention. People pointed, people stared, gaped, snickered, talked . . . it was all very old. Welcome to the carnival! The bestowed and behold! The brave and the bold! He patiently waited for Karkat to get them food, enduring the painful stand over his growing agitation at the place. Yeah, there was a beat-up clown and beat-up mutant troll; get the fuck over it, he repeated mentally. 

He felt a bump against his arm and looked to see Karkat holding out a paper plate piled with deep-fried Oreos, held out innocently. He took it, not really hungry for anything, but admiring the human work of frying what would traditionally not be thought of as a fried food. They fried all sorts of things there at the Caliginous Carnival, from candy bars to pickles to pizza. Hell, they would probably find a way to fry Faygo if they could. Gamzee didn’t think he’d try that one. 

He followed the shorter troll towards the large, open, white tent that stretched over perhaps a hundred or so picnic tables, all crowded with noisy, messy eaters, families and screaming kids. There was too much ruckus for him; he’d rather be behind his tree taking a nap. But faithfully, he followed Karkat, mostly because that’s what his moirail would want him to do. 

“Beat it kids,” Karkat’s voice settled into his ears reluctantly, causing Gamzee to look and see a chubby human and his troll friend staring up at the two from one of the only vacant tables. “I said scram.”

The youngsters didn’t need another warning from the snippy, scary-looking troll, and ran off, leaving the whole table for just the two. Karkat sat down opposite the clown, immediately ripping apart the fried dough without care. A large cup of raspberry-lemon gelato sat next to him, a plastic spoon sticking up from the very middle.

Gamzee plopped the plate in front of him, sitting uneasily and watching his friend shove his face full like a porkmeat beast. It was kind of gross in his current mood, but otherwise it would’ve been hilarious—perhaps something he’d even partake in. Sometimes he hated the way Karkat repressed everything with food, especially sugar. He didn’t want to say anything to spare his feelings, but he figured that if it was good enough for Karkat, it was good enough for him.

What the hell did sopor do anyways? The question appeared rather late and irrelevantly in his mind, but whatever it was meant to do, it didn’t sound like a positive thing. Perhaps it was some type of narcotic. He kept his eyes on his friend, who only stared down at the lipid-covered carbohydrate soaked in glycerin. He’d wait patiently for Karkat to finish; hell, he’d been waiting his whole life for most things. That seemed to be what Gamzee was good at: waiting, patiently. Waiting with practiced patience, practiced indifference and precise deliberation was all worthwhile, for things always turned out great when he took his chance to spring. The little spring on Scratch was a part of his waiting. Things were far from over, but perhaps a little past the start. 

Taking the last shred of the flaky dough, Karkat ran it over the last bits of sugar and chocolate and popped it into his mouth. He began to lick his fingers like a youngster would, leaving behind sticky brown residue on whatever part he missed. He worked at the last bit of chocolate on his thumb as he glanced across the table. Seeing as the clown hadn’t even made a move to touch his food, he pointed to it.

“You gonna eat that?”

Gamzee slid the plate full of sugary junk over without blinking or hesitating.

Without missing a beat, Karkat took the first lump that was supposed to be a fried Oreo and bit half of it off, just to see the inside. He liked how the chocolate cookie expanded into a cake-like thing almost, and the crème became a bit goopy, all within a crusty, sweet, golden flake of batter. Like a chocolaty chicken nugget. Ironically, he hated regular Oreos. 

The clown slumped in his seat, not giving a damn over good posture, and only continued to stare. He could already tell Karkat was going to have a sugar high and crash, and he didn’t want to be there to see it. Hyper Karkat was one thing, but crashing was almost like being hung-over for him—parallel to the human crash from intoxication. 

One by one he nearly wolfed down the devilish sweets, carelessly looking around to the people that had actual lives outside of the carnival. Only when he started up on the gelato did he glance back at his longtime friend. “Alright. What’s this big plan of yours?”

“You expecth me to believe you’re sthuddenly interesthed?” he restrained from biting at his lip in frustration for the way it was making him sound funny. 

Karkat shrugged, poking at the gelato before slowing spooning a bit into his mouth. “Don’t you know you aren’t the only one who wants . . .” he paused. “Erm . . . gone?” He obviously left out a few words, but it was enough for the clown to catch on. 

“You stated weeksth ago the thame I’ve been thaying all along.”

“Stop talking like that!”

“I can’t.”

Karkat’s jaw clenched, but after a few moments he visibly relaxed a bit. “You okay?”

The clown nodded. Pain wasn’t any big deal. Terezi was an agonizing biter—but of course he couldn’t say that to Karkat, so nodding silently was his only safe answer.   
“I mean, like really. Not just ‘cause you got punched. I mean, like . . . in general.”

Gamzee’s brow furrowed. “No, I’m not okay! Haven’t I made that fucking clear? I gotta problem with thisth new freak-o and hish motherfucking posse of duplicatesh. I got a problem ‘cause you and Rezi can’t get your motherfucking shit together. I got a problem ‘cause I have to look at you beat up and now Shcratch is motherfucking harder on you becaushe of it—“

“O-okay, Gamz, chill out.” Karkat raised a hand. 

“Oh I’m chill,” he spat. “Kickin’ on the motherfucking wicked elixir doesh enough for me, ‘kay?”

“Yeah, I get that. I get you’re . . . upset and stuff. But I think we’re going about it the wrong way. I don’t think beating anyone is the answer.”

“What then, running away?” he looked doubtful, leaning on the table against his arms.

“It’s a possibility.” The smaller troll shrugged. “But there has to be another way.”

“It wasn’t aiming to hurt, brother.”

Karkat’s eyes flickered to the clown’s, the swollen one open just a tad. Even through the bruises and scabs, Gamzee could see the sudden, urgent concern beginning to flicker, garnish and grow deep within him. Realization settled in for the troll and he nearly dropped the plastic spoon. He tried not to gape, but that was hard to do when your best friend just confessed an attempted murder without a single string of guilt, rue or even any other single Coddamn emotion. Maybe he really was suffering from a lack-of-sleep-induced chemical imbalance. Karkat didn’t really believe that, but it was better than a totally irrelevant assumption. 

Gamzee had always been . . . odd . . . even as a child, but still, to actually hear him say it was entirely different. But how could Gamzee Makara, of all trolls, be pushed to such reckless actions? Gamzee hated no one (that Karkat was aware of). As much as he hated to let the little crystalline pieces fall into place, he had to watch them fall, one by one, like Vriska’s dice, as a grin slowly made its way up Gamzee’s face. The clown stared without blinking, a blank, frosty sheen taking over his eyes and seemingly pausing all commotion around them. That grin—that stupid, cocky little grin curled over his fangs, giving off a quintessence of malice; a hidden, lingering anger. Karkat had been afraid of the clown a few times before, but this fear was something else, something more powerful and far more omnipotent. It was something that he knew he wouldn’t be able to control.


End file.
